Occasio Ultima
by Kadyn
Summary: "How the hell'd you survive out here for so long?" I stare back at him, trying to decide if he wants the truth. Knowing I can't give it. If I tell him, the only thing I'll have left to do is die.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Occasio Ultima

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, AMC and the character's that play them do…except for Fin, she's mine all mine! :)

**Rating:** M for language, some violence, mention of sexual assault, torture and well…its' me writing it so of course there will be some Sex. This is a Daryl and OC story, there will be some Daryl/Carol friendship stuff later, I AM a Carol fan...just not a Caryl fan. ;)

**Notes:** This is un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine, and I apologize in advance. I tried to catch them all but I'm not perfect. :) Revised/some typos fixed 2/27

* * *

**Chapter One**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Someone is out there.

I pause by the tree one hand raised against it's trunk, the bark rough under my bare palms. I'm so close to the lake, there's so much to do still and not much time I'm tempted to continue on. I could slip away before anyone who's moved into the area knows I'm here. My worry that it might be the Peacocks; or someone they'll take in keeps my feet planted where they are.

I should go—avoiding people at all cost is how I've stayed alive. People are dangerous—especially when they're desperate to survive. And how can anyone left in this world be anything but?

Desperate for survival.

An excuse for so many atrocities.

"Come on, that's it." A boy.

In dirty jeans, and an oversized coat, wearing a cowboy hat. Guess I've seen stranger things.

He's walking backwards of all the dumbass things to do, and calling to two of the Dead as he does.

_Damnit._

There's only one reason to move the Dead like that. When you're trying to re-direct them from someone who's injured or weak-worse off then you.

I watch the boy start to round the corner, still backpedaling slowly. He's near a privacy fence with its gate hanging open but still intact he turns his head I can practically see the plan forming in his mind. I'm guessing he means to get them inside the fence; double back and close the gate trapping them. The rotten wood won't hold them for long; but it will be enough for him to get away.

That's one good thing about the dead: by the time they get out they'll have forgotten where the meal was.

It's not a terrible idea; he's a quick thinker, good on his feet. That is until five more come lurching out from between two privacy fences behind him.

_Shit._

I swing my bow around, slip the leather strap from my shoulder, hold one arrow between my teeth, grab another and nock it stepping out in the open and firing the first shot. It's silent but for the 'thrump' of string releasing. I reload as the first one falls 20 feet in front of him.

That will get his attention, make him take note of what's going on. I've taken down a second one-the closest behind him this time as he pulls a weapon from his side—a gun; I can't tell the kind at this distance but the thundering shot echoes in my ears and I'm grateful I haven't heard one in a while.

You don't realize just how jarringly loud a gunshot is until you hear it at close range.

I grab another two arrows, advance toward them shifting left. I need a better angle. I fire again, moving to get a shot at the eye, the temple is a much harder shot even with the compound bow I'm carrying. It might be the softest bone in the head but it's still bone—even if it's half rotten away. Roughly 100 yards doesn't improve the shot.

_Humans are so much easier to take down_ I muse and fire again.

The boy has taken aim, fired again, another cracking report from the gun barrel echoes off the trees.

I'm close enough now that an arrow would be ridiculous. The more bullets the boy saves the more he'll have in the future. I drop my bow to the broken asphalt and slide my machete from its holder taking down the last two with quick slices. It takes mere moments.

_Now the real danger starts. _

I don't look at him yet, still holding a now disgusting blade in my hand, I trying to appear as unthreatening as possible now that I'm out in the open. I turn and walk the 20 feet back to my bow, pick it up and slide the leather strap back over one shoulder. I consider just walking away; back into the trees.

I've done more than most people would already.

I sigh. If I was going to walk away I'd have done it already.

I turn, he's watching me, he can't be more then 12. Dark shaggy bangs, hollow cheeks.

"I thought you were someone else."

_So he's not alone._ "Sorry to disappoint."

His hand rests on the holster strapped to his thigh, but he was kind enough not to point the gun at me. "No, Thank you. That would have been difficult without you."

"Who are you with?"

He tenses. Mouth turns grim, not ready to trust me with that kind of information even if I have just helped him; maybe saved his life.

Caution is a good thing, someone has taught him well.

"Are they injured? I've got herbs, I might be able to help."

_Why am I offering to help this kid, am I so desperate for human interaction that I've lost my mind?_

"Why?"

I'm wondering the same thing.

"Not many decent people left. I want to be one of them."

He nods. "Me too. It's my Dad, he's pretty bad."

"Well, let's go then"

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

He wasn't kidding.

I almost stop to stare at the man laid out on the floor. I've seen road kill in better shape than this kid's Dad.

It's pretty clear the herbs I have on hand won't be enough. I need more...a lot more. But at least the house they picked to squat in has a gas stove—and has gas still in the tanks I note flicking the switch to light the pilot with a match from my bag when the click results in a soft hiss, but no flame.

I find a pot, am amazed that water still runs from the sink tap after a bit of groaning protest. I set water to boil so I can rinse, wash, wrap and make the poultice I'll need to medicate and take the severe inflammation from the man's face so he can breathe easier. He also seems to have a fever; if he was awake he'd most likely be delirious with dehydration or pain. His ribs have been pulverized his whole chest is a mass of deep bruising like someone took real joy in kicking him repeatedly. And that's not it; someone had to shoot him too.

Bullet's probably still in there too, because why not? What's life without a challenge?

_Good lord._ "No offense kid, but who the Hell did your Dad piss off? Looks like he lost a fight with the Hulk."

"Nah, it was a military tank."

He must be joking.

Then he elaborates and I'm surprised I have this much left to work with.

I listen to their story as I work; glad to give the kid something to focus on other then what I'm doing.

I know the town he speaks of, am well aware of the danger it posed. I'd encountered their 'enforcers' out on patrol a few times and had to quickly move to avoid detection. The one with the sword for a hand made my skin crawl...But he wasn't anything compared to their leader; he was cruel just because, I don't even think he enjoyed it exactly. Watching him it was like he just couldn't help himself; _twisted psycho_ didn't even begin to cover it.

Woodberry was one of the reason's I'd moved east. I do what I can when I run across people that exist to do nothing but prey on those left in this world; but a town that big was beyond me, and best avoided.

I also knew for a fact the town was gone—burned out months ago. I'd assumed that psycho had finally lost it and burned his own place to the ground since I hadn't seen a larger group move in; I thought everyone in it was also gone. But as always seems to happen the worst of them somehow survived to continue spreading misery and death.

I'd ask myself what the world was coming too.

But that would be rhetorical.

It's good to know there's one less monster out there now, but it's sad he took so many people with him. My resolution returns to me.

I have not done enough.

It's probably a good thing Rick, I've learned his name is, remains unconscious for all this—not just because it would hurt as I dig for the bullet I remove. More because I imagine Carl is a lot more open than he would be; and I need to know what kind of people they are after living in this world—surviving in it any way they can.

I need to know how much evil they've touched, how much of it has curled deep inside them to rot-

Especially if they will be near me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own them, I'm borrowing them; I promise to feed them lunch and have them back in time for bed. ; )

**Notes:** Un-beta'd story, so any mistakes are mine, apologize in advance. I hope they are not to scandalous. (Updated 3/29)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

I know they are coming long before I see them.

Before I hear them.

It's like that sometimes-the itch; all the hair stands up on the back of your neck and you just know…

Which in the woods gives me enough time to save his life.

I've never been more grateful for putting a harness on someone as a precaution. I've watched enough people die.

Kids are the worst.

"Carl, Quick," I pull the compound bow from my shoulders nock the arrow from my pack specifically designed for this drop my bag to the ground jerking the zipper wide to give the cord room to uncoiled, and take three steps back. One short pull, an upwards tilt.

One shot

No time.

Practice makes perfect.

The arrow falls not 50 feet from us. "Grab that. _Now._" To his credit he doesn't argue, instantly moving to do what I've asked. He knows something is up.

I'm already dropping the bow, looping the rope around my palm; lacing it behind my elbow.

Carl sprints to the arrow, snatches it from the ground, races it back to me. I wind with quick jerking motions as he runs removing what little excess is in the line before dropping my end to snatch his.

"What are we doing?" He can hear them now. His eyes are wide. But his hands are steady. I give him credit. Kids braver than a lot of people three times his age.

I snap the clamp over the D ring in his harness, snatch the rope back off the ground. His hand is on my arm. "What are you doing?"

Now I hear it.

Fear.

"I've got to get you up that tree, they don't climb."

"You're not dying for me."

A sharp bark of laughter escapes me.

His hand grasps the clamp ready to pull the line free. My fingers slam down over his.

"No, I'm not." I can't explain now.

_He wouldn't believe me if I did._

"Look, I'm faster, I run every day, you haven't had a decent meal in days." It's not a lie. He knows it. He won't have the strength to fight them all off; the endurance to run away.

"I'm going to draw them off. I'll whistle every 60 seconds so you know I'm alive. And it will keep them on me, when I'm far enough away I'll give three short blasts and then figure it will take just as many minutes for me to double back around, so count the blasts okay?"

"Whistle with what?" I like this kid.

I pull the white plastic whistle from my shirt collar; it's warm from my skin.

"Why the hell do you have a whistle?"

_I definitely like this kid._

"It's my old campus rape whistle. It's loud." He'll hear it even if I run almost two miles.

I remember hearing it once in the dead of night on campus. I'd tried to tell the operator on the telephone what direction the sound came from; but it was so far away and seemed to echo off everything. I push memories away as the snarling grows louder.

Those people are all dead. Carl is not:

_Yet._

"There's no other way Carl. I've done this more times than I can remember."

_It's not a lie…_

…_it's not the whole truth. _

He nods his mouth set in a hard line.

"You better come back." I nod to him, take the rope again, wrap it around my hand and pull back, feet digging into the thankfully dry earth. Mud would make this impossible. There isn't much difference between our weight but the muscles I've worked hard to build over the years saves us-the adrenaline doesn't hurt either.

I get him maybe fifteen feet in the air, still some distance from the branch I've hooked the rope over—maybe ten feet from the lowest Vee branch in the tree's thick trunk. I tie the rope end securing it so he's not in danger of tumbling back to the ground.

The dead don't know how to undo ropes.

I return to stand almost beneath him, "Climb up the rope, like I showed you to. That Vee in the branches? You can sit there 'til I get back, or your legs might fall asleep." And it will give him a task; something to think about other than just counting the whistle blasts and wondering if I'm being eaten.

"But…"

"Stay Quiet; I'm coming back Carl!"

I bring the whistle to my lips and announce my position to every Walker in a 2 or 3 mile radius. I wait until they're almost on top of me, lurching arms out stretched for the sound before I take off.

I whistle with each puff of air that leaves my lungs as I move to cover ground, dodging tree trunks, leaping roots. I make as much noise as possible until I'm certain they are following me, taking no notice of the boy piñata I've left dangling beyond their reach. I keep looking back 'til all I can see are trees and Walkers stumbling along behind me.

Maybe 20 of them.

_That's good, a larger group gets too difficult to direct_.

I drop the whistle from my mouth, wiping spit off my lips with a swipe of my sleeve and stop to lean against a tree checking my compass watch. Once I've got my bearings I take the whistle once more to my lips and give a blast.

A nearby man turns at the sound raising his arm towards my face with a clumsy swipe. I tilt my head taking a step back just out of his reach on reflex. "Not today buddy." The last thing I need is visible scratches or bites.

Nothing ruins your day like a gunshot to the face.

I softly clap my hands together gathering their attention.

Noise

Movement

At least they still notice me then.

There were months at a time not long ago when I'd wondered if I'd died and not realized it. If what I was stuck in was some strange nightmare purgatory. I'd look in the mirror and wonder if I was real; there was no one left to tell me.

Just me and the dead…and they're not overly chatty.

Unless you count snarling.

I walk slowly through them keeping just out of reach encase they swipe at my hands, their heads tilted like confused dogs unable to figure out a new smell.

"Come on boys and girls; let's go for a walk."

They plod after me faithfully. I jog ten steps ahead—just out of their reach when I whistle for Carl to hear. Hopefully he's still waiting for me in the tree. The last thing I want to do is track him through the chaos of walker stumbling.

* * *

**(Daryl's POV)**

* * *

They're making good time.

Good time without wheels at least.

Having to circle round the main roads without his motorcycle still pisses him off. Damn bike was the last thing he had from his brother.

Beth has been a trooper. Only breaking down once at nightfall the first night. He could hear her quiet sobs in the darkness.

Though whether they're for her missing sister, her now dead father or the rest of their lost group he doesn't know. Doesn't ask, the Hell would he say?

_Sorry it went to shit kid? That's life? _

Doesn't make it any better.

They haven't seen many Walkers this morning. Most of the area south of the highway seems clear, and without the any gas for the bike it's a good thing; outrunning Walkers exhausted and hungry is a piss poor idea. They need to find the others. He can only hope Rick is still alive, Carl, Maggie…the baby.

A high pitched blast of sound catches him off guard. Pulls them both to a stop.

"What is that?" Beth stands close to him, face pinched, tired and afraid.

He scans the trees beside the road where the sound is echoing under the canopy.

"Sounds like a God Damn work whistle." Except the blasts are irregularly spaced. He listens to Beth's breathing beside him; realizes they're in tune with each nervous exhale from her lungs. "That aint no automated sound nether, someone's blowing that shit on purpose."

Beth looks at him, "Why would anyone do that?"

"Walkers, someone's trying to get their fuckin attention." It's far enough through the trees he's certain it's got nothing to do with them. Which means somewhere out there someone else is trapped, needs help, someone still alive.

"We should go,"

Beth looks up at him.

"Don't give me no damn look, aint my problem. Hav'n enough shit to deal with."

"What if it's Carl, Or Maggie out there?"

"Maggie aint got no damn whistle."

_Hell._

"How many bullets you got?"

"Three." She doesn't even have to look, _good girl._

The whistle stops. The silence is deafening. Beth is quiet, they're both listening for screaming.

There's one burst…

...than another.

"That was about a minute apart?"

"Yeah, someone's leading them."

"Can you tell how far away they are?"

"Quarter of a mile, maybe more, it's hard to say shit like that's made to be loud."

"I can wait in that car over there if you want to go take a look."

He lifts his crossbow, checks the lock feet already moving. "You sure?"

"Yeah, before it's too late."

* * *

_**(Fin's POV)**_

* * *

I've been going the same direction for a while now.

I wish I could jog faster to get this done with but the dead only travel so fast. I don't want to lose them in the trees. I silently count the whistles since I left Carl; judge the distance based on my speed, calculate the rough odds of them circling back; or changing course without me.

I can't risk leaving Carl too long.

Not because the tree isn't safe.

I worry if I wait too long he'll get brave and climb down to help me…or worse find me before I'm done with the others.

_That would end our little truce real quick._

I stop to look at my compass once more. I've picked up a few more with the commotion. Maybe 30 now? I don't count exactly, it's not important. I add a burst of speed separating myself from the rest, shouting, waving my arms, then blowing the whistle three quick times and duck between the tree trunks.

Noise, movement.

They snarl and lurch pitched into a hungry frenzy; moving right past me continuing in the direction I've set them.

With any luck they'll reach the Peacock farm and take care of the monster before I have to.

I'm not sure if that's irony; or poetic justice.

Maybe it's both.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Don't own em, don't make me say it again. -_-

**Notes:** Updated/typos corrected 3/30

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Carl is where I left him.

But he is not alone.

I reach him just as he is climbing down back down to hang suspended at the end of the rope. There's a man with him I don't know; he obviously does.

Carl is talking animatedly with him as he comes down. I'm too far away to catch the words. Too busy making sure my footfalls remain silent on the ground to try to concentrate on what's being said. They haven't noticed me yet. Maybe this is part of his old group; they can leave together go with Rick and move on before they cause me problems.

I don't need any more problems.

I can hear them now.

"Hell you get up there?" The man's accent is all Southern Georgia, he's undoing the knot in my rope; lowering Carl to the ground.

"Fin, we have to help her!"

_Shit._ Kid's got morals that will get him killed out here. Maybe the man without sleeves will show more sense since I just took off with a bunch of Walkers.

"Which direction they go?"

_Double shit._ Enough sense to carry a crossbow, not enough to stick to worrying about himself…course I'm also out here for someone else so…_yeah_.

_Damn edible people and their values_.

"I'm fine."

No sleeves has got an arrow aimed at my head before I finish. I feel my eyebrow arch but I don't stop walking towards them.

"It's okay! Daryl this is Fin."

"Hell kind of name is that for a girl?" Daryl frowns at me.

Country boy. A good looking redneck in the apocalypse. Just my luck. "It's a nickname."

I grab the rope from the ground begin unclipping the hooks from Carl's harness. "We have to go," We've lost too much time with the Walkers, and Rick is alone in no condition to defend himself.

I wind the rope over my arm feeling the rough picks where the rough tree limb's bark has snagged the line; not that it could be helped. There was no time to set it up differently, and I doubt Carl could free climb a tree without a lot of practice.

"S pretty quick thinking hiding in a tree like that."

"Fin's idea. She lead the Walkers away, I would have fought them-"

"No one's questioning your bravery Carl." I cut him off. "There were too many of them to take on with just two people."

"Yeah but you did it." He looks up at me.

I frown. I don't need hero worship, that could get an impressionable young boy killed thinking I'm something I'm not.

_Too much blood on my hands already…_

"No." I add. "I ran, something I practice every day. Track star that's me."

_L__ie_.

I hated running; I never did it before this shit went down. But I've gotten good at it, and it's safer than having him think I killed off 20-something dead single handedly. Even if I could have-it feels too much like slaughter when they just stand there.

I have nightmares about it at times; of all the asinine things to dream about.

I keep talking as I work to wind the rope. "I got far enough ahead of them and went up a tree, got lucky most of them kept going."

Carl's mouth pinches tight; he'll remember that, which is good.

_I don't want to be Batman, I don't need a Robin._

I just want to get them where they're going and be gone.

_Before they kill me._

"Where's Rick." It's not a question, he must have a lot of confidence in Rick to not even question his survival.

"House north of here, by the lake. He's pretty banged up." I've finished stuffing the rope in my pack, zipping it closed again. I slide my bow back over my shoulder with my pack.

"We came out to get more herbs to help. Fin makes them into this medicine." Carl tells him.

Herbs that are now stuffed in the front pocket of my pack. "Let's go." We can talk about this later.

I start off toward the lake, eyes alert for Walkers. I get the feeling I'm going to have to play my part a lot more convincingly with Daryl around. O_ne more thing to worry about._

Carl follows me with quick steps to keep up with my pace. Daryl follows bow down, but ready.

We've gone maybe 400 yards when he speaks. "Hold up a sec,"

Carl stops immediately so I pause.

"Left Beth over here when I heard the whistle."

"Beth's alive?" Carl lights up.

Daryl jerks his chin once. Man of few words.

He steers us east for a few hundred yards till we hit a road. I know it. Daryl approaches one of the cars parked on the grass, rusted and covered in a thick layer of yellow Fall pollen that even Georgia thunderstorms don't take off.

A skinny blond climbs out of the car's backseat. She heads towards us quickly, she's taller than me—not difficult to accomplish, but I realize she's not much older than Carl. She'd probably be in High School in another world.

"Carl!" She flings one arm around him holding a small revolver by her side in the other. She pulls back, "Your Dad?" Carl doesn't smile, but his face softens he nods.

"He's alive. I'm sorry…"

Beth shakes her head quickly her cheeks flush fighting back a wash of emotion. "It's okay." I recognize that look.

It's not. But what else can you say when you lose someone? Words fail. Emotions cripple you, and that gets you killed.

You honor the dead by not becoming one of them.

"We have to go," Carl nods Beth eyes me, she's a very pretty girl even under the dirt and grime. She should be waving palm palms at a football game not shoving a revolver into her back pocket.

"Beth, this is Fin. She helped me and my Dad."

"Thank you." Her voice is soft, like her smile. I nod.

"Let's go." Daryl obviously isn't one for emotions either.

We're already on the road now so I jog up its edge the others follow until we reach the lake's turnoff. I veer down it eyes alert for more people or dead. We reach the cabin where we left Rick in the loft without incident. Only one dead guy passes near us as we move, he's far enough away I'm tempted to ignore him, continue on but he falls from an arrow through his eye socket before I can react. Daryl leaves us for a moment to retrieve his arrow without comment.

I'll keep a closer eye on the hunter from now on.

* * *

Rick is healing slowly. Bruised or broken ribs take time though. His face no longer looks like a rotten pumpkin. Just the slight hint of purple still darkens one brow, most of his jawline. The herbs have taken the swelling out completely.

He still moves with the awkward jerks of one guarding injuries, it's still sharp. I can hear it in his breathing when he moves. He's sitting up at the table despite the fact that doing so causes him serious discomfort. The others sit with him, trying to decide what to do. I considered leaving them to work it out themselves but Rick asked me to stay so I did.

"How many were in your group?" They've been talking alone for a while. I need to know.

"About thirty before the attack." I frown. That's a lot of mouths to feed.

I stand from my spot by the floor. Cross to look at the map they've spread out on the table top. "Where is this meeting spot?"

Carl points to the map when the movement makes Rick grunt in pain.

"And the prison?"

Carl points to that too. Just across the river from Woodbury.

"There were a few escape plans in place in case we were attacked. If anyone made it out they should be headed there." Rick nods to Carl who traces his finger over the routes; all three of them.

"If they're still alive. They'll be here." Carl taps the map stares at his own finger. As if the act of staring at the spot on a map will somehow tell him if that's were their lost family is now waiting.

It's been a few days now, and I've been sending Dead that way for weeks not knowing there were others to endanger. I'll keep that knowledge to myself.

Beth looks upset. Carl told me she still has an older sister.

"If they are headed there it would take them time, this area is packed with dead." I run my fingers over the stretch of road. "They'll most likely have to double back, take their time. I'd suggest working our way up here, and then crossing over the creek at this bridge to the intersection." It's through the woods, but it's better than traveling in the open that close to the Peacock farm.

"They might not even be there." Daryl adds.

"We have to try, we found each other again after the farm." Beth's voice is quiet almost pleading.

Rick pauses considering, Daryl is silent.

"Either way, you're in no shape to go far." I continue looking at Rick. He can barely sit upright in a chair there's no way he can hike through the woods and sleep on the ground and fight the dead.

"Can't stay here, there's not enough food."

It always comes down to that. I sigh. Look at Carl, then Beth.

_I'm going to regret this_.

"I can get you over here by car." I point. "There's food there. And shelter that will keep you safe 'til we can find any other members of your group."

"What kind of shelter?" Daryl's voice is gruff.

"My home, for the last two years." I stare at Rick, we're both aware of what I'm offering.

"You've done so much already, I can't ask you to do this too." He doesn't look away though.

"Yeah well, winter is coming; you have nowhere else to go. And I can't turn away kids. You seem decent, don't prove me wrong."

It's a threat. He nods again.

_I'm an idiot._ But what's the point in hunting monsters if I don't help the only people left in this god-forsaken world?

"Alright, we have to ask you three questions if you're going to be with us."

"Shouldn't I ask the questions since you're following me around?"

He didn't ask them before, maybe he didn't expect me to stick around, I didn't either. We stare at each other over the map for a full minute.

"Whatever, what's the questions?" I can't help but wonder what kind of information he feels is important enough to base someone's character on, like I haven't shown that already.

"How many Walkers have you killed?"

I almost laugh. "I don't count." It would be _unbearable_ to count.

"How many people have you killed?"

"Directly or indirectly?" He stares at me.

"How many people have you personally killed."

That's cheating.

"8."

Rick stops. Carl is staring at me eyes wide.

"Why?"

"They were monsters."

"Who hell decides if they're monsters?" I don't care for the look Daryl's giving me right now.

_I do._

"That governor you ran into?" I stare back at Daryl unblinking. "He didn't start out innocent; he was twisted inside all the way down to the bone long before the world went to Hell." If he hadn't been protecting a town full of people who were mostly ignorant and innocent…I'd have killed him first chance I got.

"He was a monster." Carl is looking at his Dad. I'm not sure if I passed, don't really care.

They're supposed to be going with me; not the other way around.

I don't need to pass his judgment to sleep at night…I sleep like shit already.

Rick inclines his head to me, so I guess I passed muster. "You want to ask something?"

"No questions. I have two conditions: You must accept them."

"Fair's Fair." Rick watches me. He's sweating a bit more. He needs to go lie back down.

"First; I come and go as I please, and this is non-negotiable: If I get bit, I get to walk away. Nobody tries to be a savior and hack off my limbs or blows my brains out. That's MY deal or we part ways now."

"You'd rather be a Walker…" Carl starts.

"I'd rather not be murdered before I'm dead." I cut him off.

I don't look at anyone but Rick. But I can feel Daryl's stare like a heavy weight.

"It's a take it or leave it offer."

Rick looks tired. He turns to looks at Beth, and then Daryl. He nods finally. "Okay, it's a deal."

"We'll leave in the morning."

Carl's up from the table in an instant. "Come outside Beth. Fin can show you how we escaped those Walkers."

I leave Rick and Daryl alone at the table; they obviously need to talk about me.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. Except for Fin. : )

**Notes:** Un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine, apologies in advance. : )

updated: 3/31 for typo corrections. Hope it helps!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

(_Daryl POV)_

* * *

Rick gets up slow, obviously in pain.

Daryl follows him upstairs after the girl goes outside with Beth and Carl.

Rick slowly ascends the stairs one step at a time and sits down on the double bed tucked into the corner. It's obvious Carl must be sleeping on the floor next to him from the pile of loose bedding. The sleeping bags rolled and tucked in the far corner are probably the girl's.

He wonders for a few moments if it's safe to leave Carl and Beth outside with her. They're both armed, and she left her bow leaning against the wall by the door before they stepped outside.

He's not sure he could be that trusting.

She's obviously not foolish. Hell. Eight people is a fair few to have killed. Maybe she's just confident that she doesn't need the bow to take them out.

The idea makes his skin itch.

Carl seems to get along great with her, and she seems generally friendly towards him at least.

He's pretty certain the way Carl stares at her all the time the kid's fighting his first crush, not that Daryl could blame him. Girl was memorable to say the least and she'd saved his life—which tends to leave an impression on someone.

He'd learned that himself.

He leans his back against the wall beside the bed, slides down to have a seat on the floor. Follows Rick's gaze out the window to find Carl and Beth hanging by identical belt harnesses from the large tree limbs outside the loft window. Beth is swinging in slow circles, Carl using her shoe each time it passes him to spin her faster, they're both laughing.

_God, how long has it been since he saw them both laugh?_

_Hell, since any of 'em had a reason to laugh?_

Rick's gaze doesn't move from the scene as they sit in silence, eyes locked on Carl. Fin is using some kind of strap to climb the tree, hands framing either side of the trunk, boots braced against the rough bark. She climbs with a practiced ease; like a cat-positive she won't fall.

Carl stops spinning Beth and mimes shooting towards the ground with his fingers. Fin is laughing at whatever he's saying as he gestures wildly at the two of them.

"Not sure if its genius or dumb to corner yourself up a tree like a Damn coon with Walkers on the ground."

"Almost three years, most of it alone."

His mouth tightens into a hard line, mulling that over._ Obviously she's found something that works._

"Carl says she's as good with that bow as you are."

He feels himself frown; not sure why that bothers him. It's a smart weapon, and it's a hell of a lot easier to make arrows then bullets. He watches her shift her weight to the limb that Carl and Beth are suspended from walking across its surface with careful feet.

"It's not a bad bow." He won't comment on her shooting. "Can she be trusted?" They've been burned too many times.

"She saved Carl when he was alone. Patched me up with those herbs _and_ fed us both. She could have just walked away. Shit Carl had no idea she was even there 'til the first Walker fell. He told me: he would have been ambushed from behind by five more. He thought it was you when he saw the arrows."

He's not sure what to say to that. Must have been a shock to him, obviously.

Tiny redhead shorter then he was dressed like Damn Rambo? Daryl probably would have swallowed his tongue had it happened to him.

He's starting to see how the crush developed...Shakes his head.

"She told Carl she'll get him a bow when we get where she stays. We could use something other than guns. Not many bullets left."

That's always a problem…like food.

"Smart for him to learn, it's quiet too." If he had a spare bow he might have taught one of them ages ago.

"That was what she told him; said not to use his gun because people could hear it for miles. That as long as other people didn't know you even exist, they couldn't hurt you."

She's not wrong. How different would their lives be if Meryl hadn't found Glenn and Maggie on that baby food run? If the Governor had never found them...

His chest tightens for a moment thinking of his brother, his dead, hollow eyes…

"Shit people are Assholes, world going to Shit don't change that." He'd been stabbed in the back and beaten down long before it all went to Hell.

"I don't know a lot more about her, not sure what to make of half she says. I don't think she's crazy; she's saved Carl twice now—that's got to count for something, saving a complete stranger. She's obviously smart, and capable on her own; sounds like she's been running from people as long as Walkers." He pauses watching them outside. Weighing the choice between them.

"Know what I think?" Daryl's still watching her in the tree. Rick turns his head to look at him. How many people have they turned away in the past, ignored to save themselves?

She's more than okay on her own; she's not asking_ them_.

"Think she's taking a bigger chance on us."

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

He's back downstairs trying not to think about when they're coming back inside; refusing to go out and check on them when Carl and Beth come inside closing the door behind them.

"Where's Fin?"

"She said she wanted to get something and to go ahead and get the stove going with water." Beth moves to do just that.

Daryl yanks open the front door, steps out onto the porch looking around for her. It will be dark soon, it's no Damn time to be alone in the woods.

"She'll be okay Daryl," Carl's followed him out onto the porch.

He scowls. "There's Walkers out there. It's getting dark. No one should be out there."

Especially some Damn girl shorter then fucking Carl.

"She said she'd be back in 30 minutes." Carl leans on the rail to wait obviously not bothered by the withering look Daryl shoots him.

She's back just as it's turning from dusk to dark. She's carrying something off to the side, like she doesn't want it to touch her pant legs as she walks. Carl jumps off the porch steps and jogs towards her while Daryl waits.

"Is that fish?" Carl's asks. Definitely grinning; Daryl can see it from the damn porch, kids practically bouncing. _He needs to calm the Hell down. It's just fish._

"How did you catch fish so fast?"

Daryl waits for her answer. He'd also like to know considering it used to take Andrea and her sister Amy most of the day to fish in that rock quarry ages ago. She's barely been gone enough time to make the trek to the lake and back, but she's carrying four large fish at least the length of his forearm.

"Seriously, how'd you do that?" Carl jumps onto the porch ahead of her.

"Had the nets already out, just had to pull them in."

"The Hell'd you get fishing nets?" She didn't have them when she left.

She stares at him for a moment. "Made them, volley ball and tennis court nets from the local schools."

"That is so awesome." Carl's grin is a mile wide.

Kid needs to pipe down.

"Alright, 'nuf of that, get inside." Daryl growls ready to toss him inside by his collar.

Damn girl. Had to be smart and gorgeous. And now he's going to have to go out in the woods alone with her with Rick injured. Try not to get distracted and trip over his own damn feet like an idiot.

"What's his problem?" Carl whispers to Fin as she follows him inside.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

Damn girl knows how to gut a fish and cook it too. _Of course_.

Beth tries to help her but Fin has her help Rick change the poultice on his wounds and wash the bandages in water, which he approves of at least.

He snatches one of the fish off the counter while she instructs Beth behind him, gutting it silently listening to her talk. Keeps his hands, and mind busy slicing it into fillets that match the ones already cut while she finishes handing items to Beth. She returns to the counter, standing beside him now; returning to her previous task. He's not sure why her quick precise movements irritate him. Taking care of Rick, making dinner...

_Like she has to baby them, the Hell's that all about?_

"Can you grab the jar in my bag, it's got a black lid." He stares at her for almost a full minute before snatching the bag off the floor and putting it on the tabletop with a heavy thump. He unzips it and finds several plastic bags with dried leaves and a few small jars. One that looks like grey goop with a black lid.

He unscrews the lid sniffing it cautiously. "The Hell is this?"

"Fat, for the fish." She pulls the jar from his fingertips. She's so tiny standing this close to him in the dark kitchen.

"The Hell you get that from?"

"When I'm home I use fresh stuff, but on the road I need something light that won't spoil. This is mostly Crisco with oil worked into it." She spoons out a glob and the pan starts to crack and fizzle. She drops the gas flame down and raises the pan to let it cool a moment before adding the fish. When the smell fills the kitchen he's not surprised to see Carl hovering again.

"Out the damn kitchen before you burn yourself." Daryl snaps shoving Carl gently but firmly back out the door. "Jesus, go wash or something." _Just get out of here._ He doesn't need Carl mooning underfoot over Fin.

She's biting her lower lip the corners of her mouth upturned when he turns back to the stove.

"What?!"

She shakes her head, not looking at him. Definitely grinning now.

He can feel his cheeks heating. "Damn Kids."

He's not sure if he's talking about Carl, or her.

"What's cooking?" Rick has hobbled his way back downstairs looking cleaner. Daryl moves to stand against the wall as Rick leans around the stove watching Fin flip the fillets in the pan.

"Some kind of river fish." Fin tells him.

"River fish." Rick repeats. Staring at the pan.

"Well," She leans over the pan mirroring him her tone all serious. "It's fish." She leans back and arches her eyebrow at him. "And I pulled it out of a river."

Rick is grinning and it shouldn't bother him. It doesn't bother him. _Shit_.

"Carl said something about a volleyball net?"

"Volleyball fish then."

"Well it smells amazing." Rick leans against the counter to steady himself with a shaky hand.

_Too damn close to her._ Daryl scowls. Why t_he Hell should he care? Damnit._

"Thanks, but it's the fat you're smelling. You sit before you fall down." She points the spatula at Rick's chest before turning back to the pan scooping the first fillets out and adding the next. Bending to check the paste there; he came in just as she put it in the oven compartment earlier, that and some other dish he didn't see her make. Isn't the first time dinner will be a mystery to him until he eats it. They all have a long sorted history with un-labeled cans.

"What are you, Martha Stewart of the Apocalypse?"

Fin doesn't pause or look at him. "I'd rather be Alton Brown."

He has no idea what that means.

"Anyone but Bobby Flay." Rick chimes in. Fin is laughing.

Daryl's had enough of this Shit. He's about to leave the room when the doorway is blocked by Beth. Carl sneaking back into the kitchen on her heels, again.

"Do you need any help?" Beth offers.

"You wanna set this out?" Fin nods to plates like this is damn Thanksgiving, or Sunday brunch.

Beth moves around the kitchen placing plates and finding silverware to put out. She grins at Carl to sit when she almost runs into him the second time, he does thank God.

Daryl was ready to chuck him from the kitchen again.

Fin pulls the food from the oven and stove serving them at the table like they do this all time . Family dinner by kerosene lantern light. It reminds him painfully of the Prison common area.

Dark shadows dance across the walls with each movement. Carl and Beth talk about climbing with Fin. Rick listens intently hands clasped before him, more relaxed. Whatever tea herbs Fin made for Beth to give him have obviously helped lessen his pain to a more tolerable level; though his face is still tight. He glances back and forth between Fin and Carl as they talk. Daryl's gut twists; he drops his gaze to his plate surprised to see he's eaten it all. Lumpy corncake, fish and veggies; canned peas carrots and corn scavenged from the cabinets apparently.

He looks up when Fin's chair scraps against the floor, she dumps the rest of the food between their plates. Beth protests.

"Stop it. It won't keep, there might not be any tomorrow until late, and you could use a few pounds."

Daryl scowls. They were on the Damn run. It's not like he had time to stop for lunch and snacks. And Beth's always been skinny like Maggie; it's not his fault. He gets up and leaves the room.

He needs to get his head together, fast. Rick says nothing as he all but flees the room.

He swears he can feel Fin's eyes on the back of his neck as he walks out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Notes:** Un-beta'd yada, yada yada ; ) Also this chapter contains M content that hints at a history of sexual assault, I tried to keep it vague so as not to be triggering or too upsetting for anyone. Just wanted to show a bit more how Fin got the way she is. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_(Fin's POV__)_

* * *

He's leaving again, like I'm offending him with just my presence. At least he finished his plate. No telling the last time they all ate well.

Time to wash up, stop the rambling of my brain. It's a good thing I checked the woods around the cabin earlier when I headed to the lake. Judging by Beth and Carl's heavy lids they'll be out like lights soon, with Rick still injured that leaves only me and moody Robin Hood.

And he could definitely use a nap.

I stand up, grab the plates.

"I'll help," Carl gathers dishes and helps me rinse them in the sink, we have to scrub them with our fingers, there's no soap. Beth helps Rick back upstairs probably straight to bed. Carl finishes the plates with me he's yawned four times when I move onto to the pans.

"Go to bed. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

He leaves without protest, thank god.

Kids got a little crush, my fault for popping out of the woods all 'Xena Warrior Princess.'

A snort of laughter escapes my mouth I clamp my hand over it, scrub at my eyes with tired fingers, take a moment to lean against the wall. My first crush was no less embarrassing, I mean honestly what kid has their first crush on cartoon Wolverine?

"What's funny?"

God Damn. I didn't even hear him come in, guys like a shadow. "I uh," I clear my throat. "I think Carl's got a crush."

He just stares at me, I can feel myself start to flush. I'm glad it's dark in here, though it doesn't help the interesting shadows playing across his face.

"Well, not many girls left." He shrugs.

The _Hell_ does _That _mean?

I'm the only eligible girl in 100 square miles that's the only reason that anyone could conceivably like someone like me? I mean I know I'm short, and pale, and kind of plain, he probably likes taller, bustier girls…I glare at him.

This is ridiculous, to _Hell_ with this, to Hell with _Him_! I don't care if this Jerk thinks I'm only worthy of a kids crush because I'm the only girl left, who asked him, and on second thought Who Cares? I am not worried about what Moody McRude thinks of a silly kids crush. And third this is the stupidest most awkward and inappropriate conversation I've ever had…Even in my own head!

I stomp past him without another word. Smacking into his arm with my shoulder in the narrow doorway and storm from the room.

He watches her go, he swears he's not staring at the way her ass twitches as she walks away. Was it something he said?

"Damn crazy girl."

Carl and Beth are asleep on the loft floor when I come back. Rick is asleep on the loft bed. I told Daryl to take the futon earlier in the day. I can just make out his outline against the blankets from the skylights' small bit of moonlight. I unroll and snuggle down in my sleeping bag, it smells faintly of my shampoo, it's comforting. I pillow my head on my arm, wait for sleep; it pulls me down faster than I expected. 

_I'm walking through the woods._

_My bow is missing, where is it? I look around, try to get my bearings knowing this is a dream. Walkers are all around me. They stumble aimlessly in all directions then as one they turn and lurch, arms outstretched, but not towards me…I barely ever dream that anymore._

_I turn Carl and Daryl are on the hill. I run try to warn them, my own hand outstretched calling to them as I run. Carl turns eyes wide, raises his gun but it's Daryl that hits me with an arrow between the eyes…_

_I'm falling, falling down farther and farther through darkness, so far…I land flat on my back, winded. Roll up gasping for air, look around and immediately forget how to breathe again. I'm in my house, my stepdad is at the table, writing next Sunday's homily. I can smell eggs, and coffee, my mom is at the stove, Tobin runs into the room, grabs a piece of toast off the serving plate and she swats at his hand with a dish towel…they're talking, laughing…but it's all white noise. Movement through the glass backdoor catches my eye, the Dead are everywhere, stumbling across the yard, climbing onto the deck; I scream to warn them, bang my fist on the tabletop but no one hears me. Glass shatters…_

_"Fin, Come on!"_

_Abby._

_I whirl. It's a deserted street, midday. The sun is boiling hot. Sweat drips down the back of my neck. Oh god, Abby…I don't want to see this, not again._

_How can the sun be shining on a day like this? It's all wrong for what I know is coming; always, I can't stop it…I hear them snarl….Abby screams…my feet are too heavy to run._

_I can't move, Abby is screaming, and screaming…snarling, gurgling wet sounds I smash my hands over my ears eyes squeezed shut._

_Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop…_

_"Hey Pretty, What's wrong? Don't want to watch?"_

_No. No no no no no no…not this. Wake up, Wake up…_

_I'm pinned I try to struggle, scream but my body is dream heavy; powerless. They tower over me I hear a belt buckle clasp, it's gunshot loud to my ears._

_"I've got something for you gorgeous, Bet you're gonna love it."_

_No. No no no no no NO!_

_Screams finally bubble up from my chest. That only seems to encourage them._

_Someone is pinching me, hands, everywhere; groping…burning…stabbing, horrible._

_I scream, and scream till my throat burns too._

_The splash of hot liquid hits my body, sprays my face, the air smells like iron, and rotting flesh…Someone else is screaming now; they're all screaming…_

_I'm pinned by the heavy thrashing body of the man who was just assaulting me. He flails trying to dislodge the dead from his back; his fist connects with my temple._

_The world spins in bright white hot pain, blurs around the edges…he falls away, they pounce on him. I squeeze my eyes tight. They're all screaming, ripping…tearing…guns fire off like staccato thunderclaps….and I'm not sorry…I'm not sorry at all._

_Something wet and hot lands across my bare skin, I roll to the side and puke for what must be hours, till I'm just dry heaving into wet grass soaked with bile and blood._

_When I open my eyes the world is a blur of black and white frenzy, bleached of light in the dancing firelight…all I see are dead eyes…Except for Him._

_Daryl stands between the trees. Watching me, Hot tears prick my eyes._

I wake to a wet sleeve, cold stiff cheeks. I lay there silent, feeling my heart pound.

Someone is watching me.

I roll and nearly scream, moonlight illuminates his features just like in the dream, only the knowledge that I am most certainly awake and not tied down this time keep me from lashing out…I am not that girl anymore.

He says nothing.

"What?" He hasn't moved.

He's just crouched there on the ball of his feet, his elbows rested on his knees. His hands hanging loose in front of him mere inches from my leg; was he shaking me awake? I can't remember. My mouth is dry, I try to swallow a few times.

"You were talking in your sleep."

Shit. "Nightmare."

He pauses. I scrub a hand over my eyes. Stupid tears. At least it's dark. I always turn beet red when I cry, it's embarrassing.

"You said my name."

_I did? Shit. Now I'm really glad it's dark_. "It's nothing."

"Who's Abby?"

What's with the twenty questions? _Jesus_. "She's dead." I turn over. Hoping to ignore him.

He waits another minute then leaves me alone to struggle back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes:** Still having format issues, trying a new space break with text to try to help define shifts in POV or time passing. (Updated to correct typos 3/29)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine they're the intellectual property of their comic book creator and the writers at AMC

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

She's up before dawn the next morning her bag already rolled.

He's half worried she's taken off in the night after hearing her scream in her sleep. God only knows what people had to do to someone even in a nightmare to make her cry like that…he doesn't want to think about it.

A quick search of the house provides proof that she's still nearby; her pack is by the front door, neatly organized.

He hears gravel crunch and looks out the window, crossbow in hand, lowers it when he sees her climb out of a pollen covered station wagon. He watches her cross the driveway to the porch, same outfit as yesterday. Low cut drab olive cargo pants, the harness she put on Beth the other night once again strapped to her waist and around her thighs. She's got two machetes leather cased and attached one on each leg; the blades are so long they almost hang past her knees. Their ends secured through another strap near her knee keeping them flush with her leg; probably so she doesn't stab herself climbing up the damn trees.

Her bow is in her hand, arrows and quiver held in the other, she slides the strap over her head and one arm as she moves. Shrugging it into place over the long sleeve shirt, the heavy leather strap shifts the collar just enough that the two pink straps from some undershirt she wears are visible crisscrossing her pale collarbone. She's somehow gotten all that dark auburn braid from yesterday tucked up into some intricate knot at the base of her skull. Which is good to see; that damn braid would be too easy for a Walker to grab.

He leaves the window as she opens the front door. She sees him and stops. She stares at him for a few moments before stooping to grab her bag by the collar with a quickly uttered. "We need to go." She heads back out to the car.

She's not wrong, it's barely dawn though so someone will have to get Carl up and Beth too; girls still exhausted. Last night was probably the first real rest she's had in days.

He hates to get her up so soon for what might be another long day. Can't be helped though.

Daryl climbs the stairs. Rick is already getting himself up as he reaches the top. He nods to him in acknowledgement, kneels next to Carl. Taps him lightly until he's awake. Beth wakes when she hears them stirring jumps up, ready to help instantly. He tells her to take the blankets downstairs to the car, they might need them; no use leaving them behind.

He sends them downstairs with the stuff and helps Rick get his boots on. "You hear her last night?"

"Yeah, I heard. Don't think Carl or Beth slept through it either; but they had enough sense not to get up and make a commotion."

He pauses to look up from the boots, wonders if Rick is trying to say he should have left her alone. Girl was loud enough to wake the dead. "Guess that explains why she's been staying the Hell away from people."

Rick looks tired, rubs a hand over his face wincing as it pulls his chest.

"Think those were the sumbitches she killed?" God he hopes so. In his book they definitely deserved to die. Deserved to burn in Hell.

"Let's hope so." Rick stands slowly and they head downstairs.

"Just wish I knew why she said my damn name, I did'n do nuthin to her."

Rick pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "It's a nightmare; it's not always logical. Three nights ago I thought I heard her say Carl's name, and someone else named Tobin...think she was trying to save him."

"She mention it to you?"

"No, she doesn't talk about herself."

They're standing in the open doorway now. Fin is lowering the front passenger seat back; obviously for Rick to ride in from the way she's shoving the pillows into the space, packing them in. She circles to the back to help Beth jam as many blankets in as possible around her bag.

He doesn't know why her nightmare bothers him so much. Shit they all have nightmares. It's one of the few ways he knows he's still sane enough to realize how fucked up his life is.

Why should he care what haunts her at night?

"You know, there are worse things than liking a pretty woman."

Daryl's eyes snap to Ricks face, but he's looking down at his feet like he just made a comment about the weather.

He scowls, face screwed up like he's eaten something putrid and sour. "The Hell you tell'n me for?"

Rick looks up at him. "No reason." He shuffles past him into the yard without another word. Fin helps him into the car.

Beth and Carl are already piled into the backseat when Daryl finally crosses the yard, climbs into the back without a word and slams the door with more force then strictly necessary.

The car pulls out of the gravel drive and to the main road heading east; away from the lake and towards what might be their new home.

* * *

:: walking dead :: dead walking :: walking dead ::

:: walking dead :: dead walking :: walking dead ::

* * *

There isn't much gas and the vehicle backfires often, sputtering like it's going to die before catching again.

Rick comments that it sounds like the engine needs a little work.

She's grinning at the road. "It's probably because I had to use Jim Bean instead of fuel."

"You can do that?" Carl is leaned up between the front seats. Daryl grabs his collar and pulls him back into his seat.

"Not really," The car backfires again, it's loud. At least the car drives fast enough to keep them away from any Walkers drawn by the sound.

"Jim Bean? Saw someone do that once before all this shit went down, ran like crap and ruined the engine."

"What were you a mechanic before this?" She's leaned forward to see over the hood carefully pulling off the road to get around three cars smashed together in a twist of metal and shattered glass.

"No, I was a cop."

Fin grins at him. "Well, that's a problem officer cause this vehicle is stolen."

"Is that so?"

"Yup, and I'm pretty sure there's unlicensed weapons in the car."

She guns it to get past several Walkers lurching towards them as the tires contact asphalt again. They quickly leave them behind once more.

"Well, since you're being so honest I guess I'll let you off with a warning."

"Well, that's a relief." She's grinning at Rick again. Daryl turns his head to stare out the window.

She steers them around more blocked cars and down a windy back road when it looks like the main highway is completely blocked without even pausing to look at the road. She obviously knows this area well; if she's really made her home near here for two years then she must know the whole area. It should be really helpful looking for the others.

It doesn't take long, maybe two hours with all the off-roading before they enter a town. It looks deserted. A few more Walkers stumble after the wagon missing by a lot. They turn down a few cross streets, almost out the other side of town again when she turns onto a paved road with a big sign. An empty gas station stands on one corner completely abandoned.

The attached parking lot is wide and open with very few scattered vehicles parked haphazardly by the entrance.

Fin parks the car in a space of all the absurd things to worry about.

"Nice parking job, think your license is safe a while longer." Rick jokes as they pile out of the car. Daryl jerks the car door open in agitation to look around.

The front of the large warehouse has large concrete columns. Someone has secured two sets of chain link fence to them, one on each side. Metal bars have been H and T bracketed between them, barb wire is piled on top in off centered loops. Someone made their own prison style fence-too bad the inside is filled with Walkers. The whole building front is swarming with them.

Daryl frowns. _So much for a safe place to stay._

"Don't know when the last time you were here was," he turns to look at her still pulling her backpack out of the trunk. "Looks like your fence failed."

Fin turns to look at him, face calm. "No it didn't, they stayed in."

"You keep Walkers on purpose?" Rick sounds upset. They've seen this before.

"Yes, because they keep people out. People see the front and figure it's not worth the risk."

"What if they get inside?" Carl asks.

"Well. They'd have to get through cinderblock walls, and a steel roll down door that's braced on the other side with three layers of pallets stacked 10 feet high." She slings her pack over her shoulder. "And if they did get inside, everything is built up on warehouse storage shelves with steel frames, so they'd have to climb 30 feet to get to anything important."

"How long have you had them like this?" Rick is staring at the dead.

"Almost two years. They've never gotten through, or gotten out. And that's with just me to maintain it."

She turns walks away leaving them to follow. Carl and Beth follow her quickly, Rick and Daryl have caught up before they reach the backside of the warehouse where Fin climbs the ladder onto the top of a semi-truck's shipping container, walking along it's top to an access ladder starting halfway up the wall to the roof.

Rick is sweating and flushed by the time they make it onto the roof. He leans against the roof's lip struggling for breath.

"Be right back, going to make sure nothing's been opened, and no one's been here." Carl follows her down a ladder into the building via an opened skylight. While Beth knells down beside Rick, face pinched with concern.

Carl's head pops back up through the skylight opening a few minutes later. "Dad! You have to look at this! It's Awesome!"

Rick is still breathing too hard, face flushed and sweaty. "Alright, let's go check it out."

"Careful" Beth helps him straighten up slowly, supporting a lot of his weight. It takes both of them to get Rick safely down the ladder and onto the ply board floor of the top shelf.

It's certainly different, Daryl concludes. Girl built herself a fucking open air apartment on the giant steel shelves. They've entered at the top level, there's two iron yard style fire pits with wooden benches and several of those large plastic and plyboard garden sheds at the other end. The whole platform is probably 100 feet long, with the four shelving units butted up against one another to about 40 feet deep. The shelves are massive; steel bars and wood shelves the size of a house.

"How the hell'd you do this?" He can't help but be impressed.

"Some of it I moved with the fork lift before I ran out of gas. The rest I took apart piece by piece and put back together where I needed."

"How long did that take you?"

"Still working on it, but most of the shelves were moved in the first 8 months; once I figured out how to take them apart and put them back together by myself."

"Come on, I'll show you downstairs. Beth can you sit with Rick and Carl?" Beth nods easily.

She takes him down the first ladder to a second floor; this one filled with bookshelves, couches, and exercise equipment. "Living room."

She continues to the next floor down, one he instantly likes the second his boots hit the ply board flooring. "Shooting range."

Spare mattresses are piled against the far concrete wall riddled with hundreds of small holes, several targets scattered in front of them to practice on. The open walls facing the rest of the warehouse have chain link fencing secured to the steel beams.

"Where'd the fencing come from?" He can't imagine lowering it through a skylight-if you could even get it to the freaking roof outside. Especially with one person.

"Outdoor dog kennels. Store was full of them all collapsed and waiting to be sold. Makes great walls. They let the light in, but it's still a little bit of a barrier just in case."

He steps to the fence, looks out. They're still at least twelve feet in the air, but if Walker's ever did get in the fence would be one extra safeguard.

"We're wasting time. I'd like to teach Carl to shoot before we go so he can practice. Come on."

She proceeds down the last ladder to the concrete floor of the warehouse. Here he notes it is significantly darker, not only are the two walls not edged by the concrete of the building itself lined with chain link; they're also ringed with pallets stacked high with various things. It's too dark to make out what the massive piles are until Fin pulls a kerosene camping lantern off the wall and turns it on.

Food

Mountains off it

Corn flour, beans, rice, cans, glass jars that look to be home canned. He walks through the aisles of it, turning slowly; taking it all in.

"You did all this?"

"What else was I going to do? Everyday alone? It was go bat shit crazy, or stay busy, wasn't a hard choice. I worked my butt off to make this a safe home. I know you and Rick don't like the Walkers out front-but they're not getting in. And if you take them away any drifter or group that comes through will be trying to pry that door open."

She has a point; they'll have to discuss it together. At the prison they worked so hard to remove as many Walkers as possible and it took less than two minutes for someone to ram a truck through their gate and ruin it for them.

"All this food will go faster with more people so everyone's going to have to really chip in so we stay stocked. But I think we can make it work."

She definitely has been keeping busy.

"This place wasn't looted?"

She shrugs, "It was to some degree, but it must have been early. There's no TV's, laptops, Ipads, or video games, the jewelry department was gutted and all the cash tills and the safe were smashed open..."

Daryl eyes the stack of food. "Idiots."

You couldn't eat electronics and necklaces, fools were probably dead long before they realized that though.

"If you go through here you can get cleaned up first while I show Beth and Carl how to take care of things for a few days without me."

He follows her through a door in the back wall to what was clearly a kitchen at one point; but now she's taken the sink apart and turned the faucet into a plastic pipe attached to the wall with a shower nozzle. It's hardly fancy; possibly uglier than the prison showers; but its running water. He stops squinting in the low light at the shelve on the wall near the spigot.

"Why the Hell do you have so many shampoo bottles?"

_Who needed that much soap, was it a girl thing?_

Her lips quirk up at him. "Just cause it's the apocalypse doesn't mean you have to smell like it."

He scowls after her as she goes. Turning on the spray and striping he grabs the bar soap and a random bottle, the water is too cold to linger over choices. Though he does step back from the spray to quickly sniff a few things; trying to figure out where the whiff of vanilla and spices comes from every time she walks past him.

He grabs the towel off the sink counter; realizes she's left him fresh clothes to wear.

Clothing that he's quite certain weren't there when she left him. Seems he's not the only one with quiet feet.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Not mine,

**Chapter Seven**

"Arms higher; you want this arm level with the ground for a straight shot." I grab Carl's elbow lift it higher so the arrow is almost level with his cheekbone.

"Like this?"

"yup now pull back, just a bit," He pulls his hand back the pulleys on the bow spin. "And let go." He does, the arrow is widely off the mark.

"That sucked." I'm sure he's thinking of Daryl's marksmanship.

"Hey it takes practice, just like a gun. There might not be recoil to deal with, but you need to build up the arm muscles to keep the bow steady; and pull the string back without moving."

He grabs another arrow, fumbles to nock it with his fingers. Raises the bow to level again and pulls back, I don't have to correct his elbow this time.

The arrow sticks in the mattress about two feet left of the target.

"See? Better already, You have lots of time to practice. That's going to be one of your jobs right? You guys can't just hang around while I'm gone. I want you to shoot 100 of these everyday okay?"

I hear Daryl climb back up the ladder from the store room behind us.

"I can shoot more than that." Carl grabs another arrow, eager to prove his point.

"You're building new muscles, and new muscle memories. Do it 100 times, correctly. That's way more important than shooting for hours and getting nowhere. Might as well throw the arrows at them that way."

He nods. "okay,"

"You be alright if I leave you?" He nods again. "Good, I'm going to help Beth."

I head to the ladder, note that Daryl is wearing the new clothing I laid out for him, it's a decent fit…he's already cut the sleeves off the grey t-shirt I left for him.

At least he's clean.

"If you have any pointers for him, now would be the time." He's watching Carl nock another arrow, send it down range. "Nah, looks like you covered the basics."

I grab the ladder rungs, start to climb up to the top where I left Rick and Beth. There's no way Rick will be able to climb downstairs for a while. He barely made it onto the roof without passing out. I'm a little concerned that his ribs are more severely broken then I thought. But there's little I can do about it.

I find Beth, take her downstairs to get cleaned up, return to find Daryl and Rick sitting around the empty fire pit.

"What's in the sheds?"

"One of them is my Bedroom." I sit down and start a fire to heat water. "The rest are storage right now, but I'll clear them out so you can sleep somewhere with a little privacy." That's hard to come by these days, especially in a home with few walls.

"How'd you get them up here?"

"They came in boxes, like most of the things in this warehouse; so I pulled them up here piece by piece and put them together."

"That must have been difficult."

"Yeah it was, the directions were written in China."

Daryl helps me pull boxes out of two of the containers and stack them against the wall once the water is starting to heat. It doesn't take long with two people. Most of the big stuff is downstairs due to the weight and space. I send Rick into the cleared out little house with hot water, wash clothes and a change of clothes so he too can get cleaned up.

Carl comes back from shooting, with Beth now wearing clean clothes with wet hair. I send him downstairs to get cleaned up with clothing to change into after. He's more excited then I expect about the new fleece jacket.

I spend the next two hours showing Beth how to prepare the food I have on hand for them while I'm gone, she's a quick learner and obviously a good cook with more than basic skills in a kitchen with raw ingredients to start with. She tells me she grew up on a farm, handy skills to have.

I tell Rick I need to go out for a while, there are a few things I still need before we leave tomorrow that I don't have here. He doesn't look happy about it but it was part of my agreement with them.

I slip up to the roof, weave through the tiny greenhouse's I've built from nailed together window panes taken from the nearby neighborhood construction site. They're empty now, empty pots under each one once used to hold useless household plants for sale in the warehouse. I climb down the ladder, jump to the roof of the container and down to the pavement. I don't bother with my bow, I only took it for show.

I take off in a quick jog across the lot, to the backdoor of the second warehouse, It's much darker inside here without the skylights to illuminate the back of the store. I know where I'm going though, and I removed the few walkers that were in here ages ago. Stumbling over them in the dark was still enough to make my heart race. I quickly find what I'm looking for with a flashlight once I've found the correct department. I grab the items I need, stuff them into my satchel and head back.

Daryl is standing on the roof looking pissed when I climb back up the ladder. "The Hell you think you're doing sneaking out like that?" He's pacing back and forth, crossbow in one hand.

"I didn't sneak out, I told Rick I'd be right back." I don't have to explain myself to him.

"The Hell was so important it couldn't wait?"

I yank open my pack shove the package into his stomach he takes a step back looks down at it, obviously not sure what to do.

"New string and clips for your damn crossbow." God only knows the last time he's been able to change them. I leave him standing there before he can say anything else. Jerk.

:: walking dead :: dead walking :: walking dead ::

I check on Rick and the other two, Beth is already making some of the food I showed her earlier; explaining to Carl how to do it as she goes. I head downstairs myself to get cleaned up, it's dusk already, and I'm tired. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Lots of ground to cover.

I braid my hair again in the dark before returning to the group.

I'm not hiding I tell myself. That would be silly. But it has been a long time since I spent so much time with other people. It's stressful. Especially people this intense.

I'd forgotten how difficult interacting with other people could be.

When I climb upstairs again I'm surprised to find Daryl using what little light there is left to sift through the books I've gathered from the store, and the local library. He's holding a specific book in his hands; though how he managed to find that one I have no idea, lots of them are romance novels and works of fiction—something I can't imagine him picking up to even read the back cover on so I guess it makes sense he found the old survival manual my Uncle gave me years ago. He's staring at the first page, obviously found the inscription I have memorized by now, the last thing I have from my family—a few faded and smeared words on a book cover.

"Seraphim—Walk in the light of God, and judge all you do by his words. Trust in him your life, and your faith. And when the world goes to shit, knowing this stuff couldn't hurt either. I hope you never have need of it.

God bless,

-Uncle Darion"

I'd been 13 the year he'd gifted me with it, my step father hadn't approved of the exact language as a Pastor; but he'd told me it was excellent advice anyway. I'd spent almost every summer as a kid camping, fishing and hiking with my three cousins around my uncle's home in the foot hills of West Virginia.

My mother would drive us up from South Carolina and drop me off stay a few days herself and then head off on her yearly mission work with Phil. I never missed them when they were gone, too busy running wild trying to keep up with three boys twice my size.

I vividly remember my mother had actually let me take Tobin who was barely 5 at the time to camp in the backyard for almost every weekend that fall to practice everything the book said. He'd been too young for the boy scouts or the long overnight trips we'd take in the woods over the summer still and loved it. Especially when mom brought us hot chocolate after dark.

My chest felt tight.

God, I missed them.

I was lucky to have them in my life while I did.

"Hey," He doesn't exactly jump when I speak. "Food's probably almost ready." He just stares at me like I'm not speaking English.

Okay. I turn and leave him to whatever it is he's doing. I have two bags to pack still.

:: walking dead :: dead walking :: walking dead ::


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them

**Notes:** I'm trying to keep the POV for each section straight, I hope I'm not confusing anyone. Fin is generally told in the first person since she's my main character and this is supposed to be (mainly) her story.

I tried writing Daryl and Rick in First person as well but I couldn't get comfortable with that. So sections from the other characters POV is more third person omnipotent so you get what's happening to everyone but also some of their thoughts.

Hope that clears up any confusion!

Thanks for Reading!

(Updated 3/31 for typos/wording)

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

We headed out at dawn the following morning, took one of the still functioning vehicles sitting in the lot—it's low on gas but it's got enough to get us to the forest where we exited the woods yesterday. Daryl and Beth ended up this far from the main roads after the attack, so I thought it would be worthwhile to check the area again-no telling how scattered everyone might be.

After most of the day in my current company I'm wishing I'd dropped him off and kept driving.

"You spend a lot of time in trees for someone named after part of a fish."

I huff air out in a quick breath that ruffles the wisps of hair around my face. "It's safer to sleep out of reach."

I don't know why we're _still_ having this conversation. At this point I'm more than a little annoyed.

It started when Daryl noticed the kind of tent I'd packed for our trip into the woods.

It's a tent made for hanging suspended from cliffs while rock climbing; but it works great in tree branches. They wanted to know how I survived for three years, I'm not about to start sleeping on the ground now with the dead people wandering all around.

They might not eat me, but that doesn't mean I want them tripping over me in my sleep.

"I ain't no damn squirrel."

_Ugh! Just focus on what your doing, _I tell myself. The faster I got this tent up the faster I could possibly hang him by his ankles with my spare time. I glare at the back of his head 'til he turns around more dry broken branches in his hands for the fire.

"Would you rather be something else's dinner?" He stares at me, mulling over his next response. When he doesn't answer for a while I keep talking. "I get it, you don't like heights, but there are only two of us."

Not enough to sleep in shifts and get enough rest. "And I can't stay alive if I'm so dead tired I fall asleep while standing up."

There are no walls out here; no houses or storage sheds. Nothing to use for shelter. This used to be a state forest reserve. We're following the creek up towards the meeting spot; as it's logical that most people would follow the water so they wouldn't go in circles around the woods lost until something finally ate them.

"How do you know it isn't going to fall?"

"First of all, I'm going to be in it-I don't want to plummet to my death; and second these ropes are made to support 900 pounds each; and I'm using _4 of them_!"

I nock another arrow and send it flying between the V in the trunk I'm aiming for, walk to retrieve the other end where it's fallen on the ground.

"You shoot Walkers with that thing or just trees?"

I wind the rope up gathering both ends. "Walkers, trees," I glare at him as I attach the pulley and clip I need. "People."

He doesn't even turn to look at me. "How about food?"

_I will not grind my teeth…_

"I'm a little busy right now, I'll make you a deal. You go shoot something and I'll cook it."

That will get him off my back for a while. I pull out the harness attachment I need for climbing the next trunk as he watches.

"I've got this, why don't you go beat something over the head with a club and drag it back?" _Caveman_.

He stares at me then walks away, a bit more stomp in his step then his usual gait.

I take the opportunity to climb without the distraction.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

* * *

When he returns it's almost dark, not that I was worried.

I poke the small fire I've built with the wood he gathered, we can't keep it for long. A fire in the woods after dark is a beacon to Walkers and humans alike.

He tosses three squirrels to the ground near me, sits down without further comment. I scowl at the top of his head, but he doesn't look up from the flames.

I _did_ say I'd cook. _How domestic._ I snort, and his eyes shoot to mine for a second then dropping again.

I've eaten worse. I pick them up, he's a good shot even with something so small, through the head on all three. I'm positive he's showing off.

They're fat for winter too…well fat for squirrels.

They're also gutted already, which I didn't expect. But appreciate; I don't like burying guts near where we will sleep. Sometimes Walker's still find them in the night.

Nothing gives you vivid nightmares like something ripping open flesh within ear-shot while you sleep.

I take a nearby branch quickly sharpen it with a knife and dice the meat into strips I can cook quickly. Squirrel is tough when you can't stew it, so the small pieces will make it easier to chew as well. Squirrel-shish-kabob, culinary delicacy of the apocalypse.

It's done in only a few minutes and the water I set to boil earlier is ready.

I pull the water off to the side to cool so I can refill the canvas water bags to drink tomorrow. Just because the creek water is moving doesn't mean it's safe to drink. Out here a simple stomach bug could kill. Dehydration is no joke; but it's also impossible to fight off anything when you're puking your guts up so hard you can't see straight.

He watches me but doesn't say a word, occasionally lifting his head to look around; keeping an eye out for the dead. We eat in silence, when he's finished he takes the canvas water bucket to the creek to douse the flames with water before I even have to mention it. Smart, he must have spent some time outdoors before all this.

He's shoving dirt up onto the fire's embers and tamping them in with his boot when I stand to hook our packs to the lines I already ran to the tent now suspended a good 15 feet in the air between the branches. There is almost no light now that the sun has set and the fire is gone.

You forget just how dark night actually is; out in the woods with my cousins on camping trips it always shocked me. No street lights or buildings to artificially light the world, just the moon and stars.

I put my hands on the rope ladder that hangs from the tent's opening. I've done this so many times its second nature to climb the rungs in the dark mostly by feel. I can tell it's awkward for him, but he follows me without a word.

The good thing about using four tie down anchors for the tent is it barely shifts with both our weight. The sides are shallow, but with the tarp roof draped over the fifth rope like a big top circus tent and the base clips attached all along the edges there is only a narrow crack; if it was light enough I'd be able to see just a sliver of the ground.

I don't worry about tipping out or falling, but I've been sleeping in a tent like this for years.

I can tell by the braced posture he has even in the dark that he's still not convinced.

I pull the ladder up securing it with ties to the side, no human who passes will see it now, and I don't know many people who walk through the woods looking up these days.

The dead don't fly. People tend to look for the most obvious danger.

I pull the flap from the roof down and secure that too before pulling my boots off and hanging them off the ropes securing the roof.

Daryl watches me then follows suit.

"There's not a lot of room." He sounds nervous.

Walkers don't bother him, girls make him nervous. _Interesting_.

I'm not sure if he's being a gentleman or if he thinks I might stab him in his sleep.

"Do you kick in your sleep?" I can't make out his face in the dark but he sits very still for over a minute.

"No, but I aint slept next to anybody in a while."

"Worried you'll snore?" He shifts around a bit. I wait.

"Something like that."

"Well if you do I'll shove you out."

This is the most verbal he's been without arguing since I found him helping Carl out of the tree, even around Rick and Beth he rarely speaks.

I move towards his side in the dark and I can still feel him tense and shift away despite the fact that moving up here seems to unnerve him a bit. I can barely make out his outline as my eyes adjust.

"Feet down there, heads at this end." I shift myself over, I do not want to smell feet while I sleep. "If you hear something in the night, tap me three times on the shoulder like this." I reach out and give him a tap. His shoulder is so tense beneath my fingers you'd think I was stabbing him with a knife.

I lay down facing away from him, trying to give him space even in the tight confines of the tent. If sleeping like this was really going to bother him so much, why did he insist on staying out here?

There are two sleeping bags I packed; but it's much more comfortable to sleep on one and use the second as a blanket, there is a definite chill to the air, that's slowly getting worse with the sun down. If the temperature plummets too low in the night sharing body heat will help protect us.

Sometimes it's the little things like weather forecasts you miss the most. Funny how I never even thought about them until they were gone.

That and Google. God do I miss Google.

I shift lower pulling the blanket up and feel him lay down finally behind me, after a moment I can feel his back against mine; kind of hard to avoid in such a small space.

I close my eyes and try not to think of all the thing I miss from my old life. Eventually I stumble into sleep.

* * *

Dawn finds my eyelids. I snuggle beneath the warm blanket and hide my eyes for a moment. It's warm, and I'm not ready to get up just yet. A comforting weight is settled across my waist, just below my ribs, heat seeps through my shirt into my back.

I've never been a morning person, gathering my faculties always seems a slow and arduous process I sift my way through. I always envied my college roommate who could spring from sleep like she'd already had two cups of coffee.

_Coffee, I miss coffee._

Someone shifts against me. A hand presses to my ribs and I am instantly awake the surge of adrenaline does not help my brain function however, my thoughts are still scattered and foggy with my usual morning haze. I lift the cover and peak at what my muddled brain has already told me. Someone's arm is wrapped around my waist, one long fingered bare arm.

Bare arms. Daryl. _Shit._

It comes back to me and I relax just enough that my muscles won't start to ache, and take three slow deep breaths. No big deal; it's a small space, and it's nice and warm this way. I ponder for a second if maybe that's why he cuts the sleeves off everything, the man is like a human furnace.

I poke my head out of the blanket and blink in the early morning light.

I was right, cold has set in overnight. I can't see my breath as I exhale but it's a good bet by tomorrow night I will. We need to hurry and be done with this search; if we have another winter like last years with the freezing rain and sleet things might get ugly; fast.

We also need to move, daylight is wasting for us to search, and it will take me at least thirty minutes to take apart and wrap up the tent.

I flex my muscles ready to sit up when I feel Daryl's breathing change, he slips his arm from around me and pulls away like he's been burned.

"'M sorry." His face is flushed, he runs a hand through his hair not looking at me.

"Don't be." I'm determined not to let this be weird. "It's no big deal." I get the feeling he is more embarrassed than I am. "We need to move though, it's getting late"

"Temperature dropped last night." He grabs his work boots, shoving his feet in them as I do the same, fixing my laces before opening the tent flap and dropping the ladder.

"Go ahead down, I'll pull the roof apart and we'll get out of here as fast as we can."

I'm already removing the cover tarp as I say it. Undoing the clasp that holds the rope for the tarp roof line.

Daryl lowers my pack and his from the tree and climbs down.

He immediately starts folding and rolling the tarp roof. He's a handy guy to have around, especially in a camping situation. I climb down and shimmy up the two trees to release the ropes spin the pulley rope to lower the release clamp on the other two and

Daryl has already wound up the other ropes and stored them in my bag. He helps me collapse and fold the hammock tent rolling and securing it's ties to the underside of my pack.

I hand him a pop tart from the front pocket of my bag. He stares at it in my hand like I'm trying to offer him a severed head.

"How the...?"

You'd think I just pulled a rabbit out of his ear.

"I spend half my year living in one of the largest big box stores in 4 counties. I have access to pallets of food, pop tarts last forever, and they're easy to pack."

He takes the wrapper, "You always live there by yourself?"

I nod zipping my pack closed. There was no one else when we dropped off Rick and the kids; what did he expect? College students home from spring break?

"People hurt you. They either want what you have, or you get killed trying to save them." Like I might do now, I don't add.

He doesn't comment at first, we eat as we walk for a few minutes.

"What made you take a chance on us then?"

I keep walking, looking down. Try to decide how to answer that. "The truth is, I have no idea. The last group I was with ended a disaster."

The kind of disaster where Mark shoved a gun in my face; while everyone else ran the other direction screaming at the top of their lungs.

I take a deep breath, "I'm hoping this time it will be better."

_Though I can't see how._

* * *

::walking dead :: dead walking :: walking dead ::


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, cept 'Fin

**Notes: **This chapter becomes M rated for more than just language and the occasional dead zombie bits. :)

(Updated 4/3 for typos and wording fixes)

Thanks guys! ; )

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

We've traveled most of the morning into early afternoon in complete silence. The only thing we've found is two dead, quickly dispatched by arrow.

I'm about to suggest we take a short break when we both hear a wail. I recognize the sound immediately.

We're both bolting through the trees searching for the source. As the sound gets louder Daryl calls out; and I can only hope we're not about to ambush total strangers in the woods.

"Maggie! Glenn! Michonne!" He's yelling as he runs. He's got longer legs then me; but I run a lot so I'm just behind him as we reach the top of a hill and find them.

"Maggie!"

Daryl races down the hill at full speed somehow managing to keep his feet underneath him. He runs right to the tall brunette with short hair. The baby is clutched in her arms, the other woman with her is holding a freaking sword I note as I join them at the bottom of the hill. She watches me as I approach slowing to a cautious jog.

"Where's Beth? Is she okay?" This must be Beth's older sister, they look similar.

"Yeah she's fine, I'm worried about this little lady right here." Daryl takes the screaming kid from her arms. The girl stops screaming almost instantly.

_Seriously?_

Redneck Rambo is also a freaking baby whisperer?

My brain hurts.

I drop my pack and pull out the two things I stuffed in there before leaving. Back when I realized there was a small possibility we might find the baby still alive. I pour water from my canvas into the bottle, add powder and shake it holding it out to Daryl. He grabs it without a word while I put my bag back together. Maggie and the other woman stare at us in silence as we move.

The other woman has put away her sword but she's still just staring at me. Hasn't said a word since we showed up.

She and Daryl must get on like peas and carrots.

"Fin this is Maggie, Beth's older sister." He doesn't look up from the kid now devouring the bottle of formula. "And this is Michonne." He nods his head to the samurai chick.

"Nice sword."

She grins at me finally. "Nice bow."

"And this little badass is little AssKicker." The man is a nanny with a crossbow, unbelievable. I hope they didn't let him _actually_ name her that.

"Have you seen Glenn? Tyreese anyone else?" Maggie is talking a mile a minute. Obviously worried for the rest of the group. She has the same sweet face as her sister; but it's more guarded.

Michonne is mostly silent still. Though she does inquire quietly as to whether Rick and Carl made it out after Daryl shakes his head to answer Maggie.

"We went to the meeting spot but no one was there. We've been trying to find anything that could pass as baby food. But we had to get off the highway into the woods before this huge herd moved in. We were thinking of heading to the coast. We didn't know if anyone else was alive."

"Rick and Carl were with Fin when I found them."

"Hold up, who found who?" I think I see Michonne's lips twitch at that.

"Beth's with them taking care of Rick. Governor did a shit job on him."

"We left a car back there, it's got enough gas to get you back through town to where they're staying. Daryl can go with you, show you how to get back."

"Hold up, The Hell you mean? You're not staying out here by yourself."

"I live here, I know the area, and they have a baby. That's way more important."

They have no idea just how important obviously.

"What about the others? They don't know you. Daryl should go with you." Maggie's got her hands full with a baby in the middle of the woods and she's turning down extra help. "No one should be out here alone."

I can see that no one is going to agree with me.

"Fine. I'll give you the map and my watch; it's got a compass so you should be able to follow it back to the warehouse."

I quickly explain to Michonne and Maggie how to get back to the road, and the car; and where to go from there. I'm reasonably confident they can get back. I also need to get Maggie's hands free before they go, just in case she needs to defend herself.

I take the sleeping bag from my pack open it and cut a long strip from it while Daryl watches. I give Maggie my extra fleece to wear and use the long strip to tie the baby whose real name is Judith to her back. At least now she can carry one of my machetes in her hand. I help her tuck the baby bottle refilled with water into the make-shift baby carrier strap, and the small travel packets of baby formula. Michonne takes one of the waters bags from me. I hand her my compass watch. She's turned down Daryl's fleece for herself.

I'm surprised he hasn't cut the sleeves off it already.

Maggie gives Daryl a tight hug that he looks uncomfortable with before they leave. Michonne says nothing but a quick 'good luck, stay safe.' And they leave us.

I can't help but feel like this is a mistake.

Daryl should be going with them not just to protect them—traveling without him would be a lot less complicated. Though I can hardly tell them my real reasons.

"Michonne's a badass, and Maggie's very capable. They'll be okay."

I don't reply, we have a long way to go now. Since Maggie and Michonne have told us they waited at the meeting spot for a full day before moving on, we'll have to search the woods and roads on either side, while avoiding that herd, and looking for members of their group that my still be alive and either coming or going searching for others.

I remember Carl's fingers tracing over the routes from the prison to their meeting spot. It's close enough to the Peacock farm that I'm starting to worry that some of them could have been intercepted on the road-

Taken in for the Winter.

The thought makes my skin crawl.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

* * *

Here's something you might not realize; walking aimlessly, and looking for people that aren't dead gets incredibly tedious after a few hours.

Daryl's hardly a Chatty Cathy.

It will be dark soon, dusk is setting and the air is already noticeably cooler. I spare a thought for Maggie and Michonne with the baby and hope they are okay. If they found the car we left moving in their more direct line they should be back with the others tonight. I'm going to have to figure out something to make the top two levels 'baby safe' when I get back. That will be an interesting challenge.

I stop looking around for people, and start looking up at the trees. I soon find three trees the right height and distance apart. I tell Daryl to stop, he does without question setting his pack down and gathering wood to work with. He's already got a small fire going while I prep the tent for going up. None of the snarky comments from yesterday, just silence.

"I'll be back." He leaves with his bow without waiting for a response. It's so strange to see him be so relaxed with a baby that would terrify most grown men, and so awkward with everyone else.

Daryl returns well after dark I have long since finished the tent, boiled water, and used a damp hot cloth to wipe down my face arms and legs. I even changed into fresh clothes while he was gone and hand washed the others. I am itching to put out the fire so no one sees it in the dark. Daryl walks into the light, sets down his crossbow and sits down across from me. He's got a small brown grey rabbit in one hand, pulls out his serrated knife and starts working on it.

"I was thinking-about tomorrow." He pauses, concentrating on what he's doing for a moment. "-and I think we can make it to that bridge early enough to search at least one side of the road for anyone stuck out there."

It's not a bad idea. I pour the cooled water into the first canvas water skin. He looks up from his hands to watch me.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I assume you don't mean pour water." I pick up the next canvas. "My uncle Darion had three boys that spent most of their time running wild, hunting and camping. I used to spend all my summers there as a kid. Used to drive my older cousin's crazy with a stupid girl following them around. Till I grew a pair of boobs and could give them tips on how to get a date."

He's staring at me again making me feel strangely self-conscious.

"Anyways, my Uncle would send us out into the woods with bare essentials and we'd have a competition to see who could stay out the longest without coming back. He was a pretty big survival enthusiast. What about you? You're pretty handy in a pinch."

He's putting the rabbit on two sticks, positioning them near the flames. "I didn't have a good childhood. We had to hunt to eat we were so poor. I spent most of my time chasing my brother through the woods to avoid being home at all cost, when he wasn't in juvie. Then I was on my own out there. Learned the hard way."

"I'm sorry." We sit quietly for a while. Eventually he hands me one of the sticks, and I take my time pulling medium rare rabbit bits off of it. "It comes in handy though, this is great."

We finish eating and he grabs the canvas bucket again to put out the fire. I help him kick dirt onto the logs this time. "We should sleep."

I go up the ladder first, the tent sways a bit more then yesterday with the wind having picked up. But it's still sturdy. I've removed my boots and hung them off the overhead rope beneath the canopy by the time Daryl joins me. He slides away from me just like yesterday and does the same, hanging his boots in the far corner. I pull off my belt harness and hang that too, sleeping on it was a little uncomfortable last night. I pull up the ladder and fix the tent flap closed then move closer to the other side of the tent ready to go to sleep.

The wind blows again, hard enough to shift the tent just enough to sway back and forth. Daryl happened to be sliding over to make more room for me and the shift in the tent obviously upset him enough for him to grab me in the dark.

"We're not going to fall." _I'm whispering. Why am I whispering?_

He lets go but I can still feel his fingerprints like ghosts against my hip, burning my skin.

I tell myself to go to sleep and lay down pulling my side of the cover up. Daryl lays down too, facing away from me again.

I close my eyes and try to sleep listening to the wind through the trees.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

* * *

It's warm and dark.

Heat presses into me, strong arms are wrapped around me. One hand cradles my left breast. Thumbs over my nipple. I arch unconsciously toward the caress, a soft moan escaping on my exhale.

Fingers dip down under my layers, knead the muscles and skin of my middle, trace the dip from my hipbone up to my waist; ghost up over my ribs, cup me again. Someone's heavy bulge is thrust against the swell of my ass making my core flood with impossible heat and slick want.

A mouth presses to the curve of my neck. Warm slow kisses press up my neck then down to tug my collar open with teeth. Nipping at my shoulder.

_Oh god._ This is _such_ a _bad idea_.

But when he grinds his length against my core pulling a strangled gasp from my lips I forget my objections. His left hand winds around my waist lifting me up, curls around my waist so he can pull me back into each grinding thrust.

My whole body is tingling, my sex is burning with empty need...

I meet his next thrust with one of my own. Lifting my leg to rub the heat of my aching core across his firmness, now it's his turn to cry out.

Fingers cup my breast, lifting my bra to cup full globes and roll my pebbled nipples between his forefinger sending sparks down my spine straight to my center. I'm panting, moaning, pressing my hips back against his desperate for pressure; for the friction I want…no. _I Need_.

Release: my whole body trembles begging for it.

I'm going to burst into flames from the heat and want and that gorgeous wet mouth dancing over my skin.

Fingers grasp my pants, pull them open, shove them down my hips. I wiggle free, thrusting back impatiently, moaning when I feel hard skin against slick skin.

Throbbing engorged heat presses to my folds. I gasp, and claw handfuls of the blanket trapped in his iron grip. I want so bad. His cock slides against my folds in the worst agonizing tease ever. "Please, _please_." I'm thrashing, can't get what I want...

I'm dying, I'm so empty, nothing but raw nerves and wet heat driving every impulse in my trembling body. I press back against his length feel it slip along my entrance, coated with my essence. How much more of an invitation does he need?

_Fuck. _ I know what I need.

I pull my leg up rock back and feel his arm coil around me in a vice grip. He's guiding his head to my center pulling me back and thrusting into me fully even as I buck and thrash and nearly come undone.

_Oh God._

He feels huge, buried to the hilt; I'm sorry I couldn't see it before. I can only imagine what it would look like hot and throbbing with need. I'm so full I ache, burn with every thrust. But each pump of his hips sends pleasure racing down my spine; tingles the base of my skull as he's fondling my naked breast, thrusting into me with a rough deep tempo that has me rocking back to meet him.

My back arches, pelvis rolling with the first hint of my release..._so close..._

His mouth bites down on my shoulder fingers pinch and roll one nipple while I grind back into his thrust.

"Fuck, girl I'm going to come."

My brain explodes in total shock. _Fuck it's Daryl!_

He's groaning against my neck wet heat explodes inside me the swelling just before his release pushing me over despite my paralyzing shock.

"Fuck. Fin! Wake Up!"

My eyes snap open.

My whole body is instantly on alert. Slick molten heat burns through my still empty core. Throbbing with each heartbeat.

_Not some nameless person in a dream….Fuck. Why Daryl?! _

_Curse my brain._

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" I twist trying to pull away from him.

Daryl's vice grip on my waist is a parody of the one in my dream. _Let go please..._

I take in a shaky breath; hide behind my hands even in the dark. Waiting for my heart to slow, trying to ignore the slick throb between my legs. The way my nipples press into my satin bra.

"The Hell kind of nightmare was that?"

I let out a choked laugh.

_The worst kind. God it felt so real_.

I could close my eyes and squeeze my core in the rhythm of the imaginary thrusts in my dream and come _right here_ I'm so close.

Daryl needs to get his hands off _me_ before its me ripping off _his_ pants.

_So not good._

I should make him sleep outside tomorrow,

_Yeah Right_.

"Fin," His breath is right in my ear. My whole body shudders.

"_What_?" _God I sound like I've been fucking._ _Jesus, I need to get a grip_.

I swallow, try to clear my throat; my face flushing furious shades of red.

"_What. the. Hell. was. That?!_"

Like he doesn't know. I'm not going to say it! But then..._Oh my god._ Maybe he doesn't know? Is that even possible? I almost snort in near hysterics.

How can a man that fucking gorgeous be so utterly clueless?

"Fin," He's practically hovering over me now.

_Damnit. So not helping._ What small portion of my brain was still functioning just went south to party in my pants.

"Um," _Brilliant_. "Nightmare." I finally gasp.

"I thought you were going to thrash right out of the tent."

_Oh God. Thank you for darkness._ Maybe by sunrise I'll be a color other than beat red. It's hard to focus on anything but throbbing slick heat, and empty want. But I need to get this back under control. Fast.

"_Really_, vivid nightmare" I emphasize.

"The fuck did I do to you?"

"_What?_!" I squeak. _OhMyGod!_

"You said my name, again."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._ "I …" I trail off.

What can I say? Sorry Daryl but you were fucking my ever loving brains out, didn't mean to enjoy it so thoroughly? _Yeah. And die of humiliation._

I swallow. "I don't really want to talk about it. I'm sorry."

He's still hovers over me in the dark. ...I could reach up and kiss him, run my tongue over that bottom lip. Suck his earlobe between my teeth, wrap my legs around his hips, gasp his name…

"Whatever, quiet thrashing around at least."

He rolls away from me and I lay there aching for far too long before falling back asleep.

Thankfully without dreams.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes: **A bit more about Fin's background in this chapter, pretty short one, Chapter 11 is pretty much all M material so it was easier to break it here. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

(Updated 4/3 for typos/wording)

Thanks Guys! :D

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I wake enfolded in someone's arms. Warm heat envelopes my whole back from shoulder to knee. Daryl is wrapped around me like a coat, draped around me, both arms circling my body. My head is tucked under his chin, each puff of air as he breathes moves the short red gold wisps of hair that have worked their way loose around my face.

I lay still trying to separate reality from dream in my mind. Blinking the world into focus.

I've occasionally had wild dreams. I spend a lot of free time reading romance novels; what else could I do?

When everyone you meet eventually tries to kill you or runs screaming away from you it doesn't leave a lot of room for social interaction.

My sex life was beyond dead.

_Not that, uh there's been much of one to begin with._

I sit up. He wakes up the second I pull away. The air feels colder this morning again. I grab my boots, silently not saying a thing.

"It's no big deal you know." I stop lacing my boots, wonder if he wasn't actually that clueless last night after all. Heat flushes my cheeks, he continues.

"Even I get nightmares, Hell you should have heard Rick's after Lori died."

I take a shaky breath. "Let's just get going,"

We need to move. The faster we're done with this the quicker I can hide my face in a book at home and avoid him as much as physically possible until my brain works through whatever particular brand of insanity it's employing lately. Maybe if I didn't have to sleep two inches from him I could relax and get over this foolishness.

He helps me pack everything up again, quick and efficient; and I'm grateful for his silence today.

The last thing I want to do is talk about it.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

* * *

We've walked up and down the stretch of highway east and west of the creek bridge for most of the day, and found nothing.

I'm tired, and cold. The wind has picked up, whips my hair around my face. The air feels heavy on my skin.

It smells like rain, but the chill in the air tells me we might be in for worse when the sun sets.

"Daryl!" I have to shout, but my voice is still mostly carried away by the wind. No response. I turn stare down the stretch of empty road. Turn again, same thing. He's nowhere in sight.

_Great._ _Hell of a time to lose him._

We are way too close to the Peacock farm. It's just north of here by a few miles. I tamp down the dread bubbling up in my stomach and head off the road and into the woods, bow off my shoulder in an instant, arrow nocked just in case.

I find him, finally, down a small crease in the bank near the creek.

He's looking at tracks in the mud. Foot prints: though whether they were made by the dead or the living I can't tell from here.

He looks up sees me and jumps up raising his bow, eyes wary; scanning the tree line.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He climbs up the steep rise boots slipping just a bit in the soft ground.

"I couldn't find you."

He stares at me.

The wind whips through again so hard I'm actually pushed forward a step caught off guard. Daryl steps into me, hand coming up to brace my weight, leans into me so I can hear him over the roaring of the wind in my ears.

"We need shelter now. It's about to get ugly."

I nod, I'm not only one that's noticed the weather turning sour. He leaves my side again, jumps back down towards the river slinging his bow over his shoulder. He stoops back down and grabs some of the red berries off the bush near where he was crouched previously. He holds a hand up to me.

"Sumac,"

I take a handful, look at it carefully, taste one with my tongue. _Yup, Sumac_. "Going to find some cover." He nods to me and I walk away from the bank. We'll need ground between us and the water, if it rains the way it looks like it will the water could quickly rise and become dangerous.

I find a stretch of trees banked by half dead kudzu vines. Start pulling out the gear to set up camp. Daryl is only gone a few more minutes, he's picked most of the berries from the sumac bush, hands me more of them while we work. They're tart on my tongue and probably the only thing we'll have to eat tonight, it was a good find.

He helps me unroll and hook clasps together, waits on the ground as I climb, not nearly as high as yesterday. I want as much of the kudzu wind break as possible with the weather moving in. Small flutters of icy sleet trickle down between the branches as I work. I have to keep flexing my fingers to keep them useful, the bark tears at my cold hands making this much more difficult than usual.

I slip on a wet patch coming back down the trunk, still a good ten feet from the ground. I'm lucky Daryl is standing close enough to half catch me before I fall backwards and smash my head on the ground. "Be careful." He sets me on my feet, hands jerking back to his sides while he steps quickly backwards.

Icy drops dot my cheeks, melting on my skin. I can see the tiny ice flecks on my eyelashes.

"Right." My hands are aching and red by the time I finish tightening the last tie.

I hope to God Maggie and Michonne aren't out in this with the baby, if something went wrong and they're out in this weather they'll probably freeze to death, immunity won't save Judith from the cold.

It's starting to rain now. Large snow chilled drops mixed with the sleet as we climb up into the tent, my bag still over my shoulder. There's no time to hang it right now. We do not want to be wet in this weather. Daryl follows right on my heels, moves into the tent with the boosted confidence of one positive that being outside is far worse at the moment.

There is less room than normal, since I've set the roof low enough it will overlap the tent base by several inches trying to keep out as much of the biting wind as possible. I use the hooks from my pack to securely attach both our bags to the ceiling rope near the foot end of the tent. I'm closing the tent flap as tightly as possible when the uneven drops on the roof change from a gentle tap, to a more aggressive rhythm.

"Just in time."

I nod in agreement glancing at him in the small space. Daryl can barely sit without his head touching the roof.

I pull the sleeping bags out of my pack—I didn't get a chance to put them down before we were both inside trying to escape the incoming weather. He pulls his boots off, we trade items I hang his boots and then mine near the packs. It's still light enough to see, sunset shouldn't be for at least three more hours, the small world under our roof is grey washed between the dark clouds and the tarp roof filtering the light.

Daryl unrolls the sleeping bag working to lay it down underneath him in the small space. He lifts his hips scoots onto it and rolls it towards me, I grab the end and do the same till we're both sitting on the soft material. I open the second bag unraveling it at my end. I then zip the two ends together where our feet will be tonight; start to zip the sides together. It's going to be dangerously cold I can already feel it in the air.

I look over my shoulder at Daryl, leaned back on his forearms, legs stretched out beside where I'm sitting. He's watching me. I'm positive he has no idea how he looks in the low light reclined back as he is—he looks almost relaxed. Which conflicts with the tightly guarded expression in his eyes. The black fleece jacket he finally bothered to put on this morning suits him. More so since he's left the zipper partially open at his throat, now one side has folded down against his collarbone showing the corded muscles of his neck. I swallow mouth suddenly dry.

"What?"

I turn away blushing. "Just surprised to see you wearing something that you haven't ripped the sleeves off." I don't want to lie down, not yet. Not with him looking like that.

The memory of my dreams from this morning color my cheeks further. I unwind my hair from its now loose braid. I need something to distract me from imagining my lips tracing over the opening of his collar, nipping at his ear; sliding my hands under the jacket hem to feel the muscles of his abs.

I close my eyes; focus intently on my breathing and the movements required to un-tangle my hair. I finger comb the wavy crimps into a loose curtain I temporarily hide behind.

The tent moves as Daryl shifts. I keep my back to him. Pretend not to be aware of his every movement.

"I didn't realize your hair was that long."

"That's why I keep it up." Unfastened my hair falls almost to my waist, maybe two inches short of my belt. It's too long to leave down; not just because it would be a nightmare to untangle it after something like running through the woods but I know from experience it's far too easy of a handhold for someone trying to grab me.

I should have cut it long ago; but it's one of the few things I have that still reminds me of who I used to be.

Sometimes it's nice to forget what I've become.

Daryl shifts again, sliding one leg to straddle either side of where I'm now sitting cross-legged. With his legs sprawled on either side of me I feel a bit trapped. He shifts again popping his feet under the sleeping bag that I can't pull up further with where I'm sitting.

"Feet cold?" He grunts in response, and I try to ignore his legs. I scoot back enough that I can pull the sleeping bag over his knees and mine while I sit. I try not to think about the length of his thigh pressed against mine. Focus on getting my hair back under control.

I split my hair into two halves, twist the wind-blown locks that frame my face back into a tight twisting braid down behind my ear, crowning my head with two auburn ropes. Then I begin weaving the two into a single braid at the base of my neck. I work quickly to the ends. Secure it with a tie and then begin wrapping the braid's length back around the two sections at my nape repeating the elaborate knot I've perfected without a mirror over the last two years.

At least like this it's harder for someone to grab; though still possible. Daryl has been quiet the whole time watching me work.

I twist looking at him over my shoulder. He's still propped up on his elbows, expression dark. I try to think of something to say, something to do other than imagine how his mouth would taste. How it would feel if our positions were reversed with him cradled between my thighs.

I jerk away, raise unsteady hands to tuck non-existence fly-away hairs behind my ear. Taking in two slow deep breaths; I can't sit here forever. I pull the straps off my harness, slide it off my hips and loop it over the tent rope. Then I move to lie down next to him.

The roof is so low I have to essentially crawl across him from my current position. His hand comes up lightening quick when the tent sways with a particularly brutal burst of wind. The gentle taping rhythm on the roof becomes a roar of white noise as the skies open up. I feel sorry for anyone without shelter tonight, this weather is dangerous.

The inside of this tent isn't feeling much better.

He doesn't let go of my waist instead pulls me up and practically shoves me across him to the space I've slept the last few nights. I barely manage to avoid landing on top of him.

"Lie down and quit fidgeting, Jesus." He lays back staring at the roof in silence.

My side tingles where his fingers touched me. This is ridiculous I need to get my head on straight. He has no idea how twisted my thoughts have gotten. Every nerve ending in my body has become finely tuned to his every movement. I need another distraction, my whole body feels like a bow string ready to snap.

"I'm not going to hurt you, fuck, just relax. You're so wound up I'm getting a headache."

I roll away, turning my back to him and stare at the wall, hide my face in the crook of my elbow.

I'm glad he doesn't realize just how far from harm my thoughts are.

Daryl huffs, shifts his weight. I can tell he feels trapped in the small space. Doesn't like it. He rolls to the side mirroring me like the last two nights.

"I'm sorry. People can be assholes." I know he speaks from personal experience, the way he flinches away from even the most casual touch, he was obviously raised with more than just a heavy hand. I can't imagine anyone raising a hand to him now though. He's like a tightly coiled spring—a caged tiger all pent up aggression and animal instinct.

What would he have grown into if he'd been raised in a family like mine? The first hint of bad I'd ever had was when the world went to shit.

What was worse? The shock and lingering ache of losing safety and love in a few gut wrenching days; or the horror of never even knowing what love felt like before the world changed? Made it impossible to find...?

"I'm sorry too." I take a deep breath.

"I'm not going to touch you." My insides clench. I sigh.

_Of course not, not like that._

I've been flinching away from him all day thanks to the unease of last night's dream. I can't help it; every time he touches me I burn. He's obviously noticed; misinterpreted my unease for fear.

"Daryl." I exhale; realize I can see my breath already. "You have to."

He stays silent.

"It's getting colder. I need your body heat so I don't freeze to death." He shifts, turns around, his movements slow like someone trying to catch a frightened animal; certain to dart away or snap at his fingers.

I grab his forearm not touching bare skin. And shift back till my body lies flush against his chest, drape his arm over me, and pull the blanket up higher to tuck it under my chin. I wiggle my toes trying to warm them. Daryl's hand drops to my thighs, pushes my legs back till my feet are trapped between the worn pants material covering his calves. He brings his arm back around my waist, breathing tense.

"If you want me to stop, tell me."

_God if only that were the case._ I shake my head. "I'm okay, it feels nice." I blush, "you're warm." I rush to add.

"I guess we try to sleep."

I'm not sure I can with him curled around me like he is.

My heart is hammering in my ears.

I can feel each beat of his heart, each inhale and exhale of breath.

We lay there in silence for a while the only sound the pounding of the rain.

"When was the last time you were with someone?" I can't believe I almost just

I freeze, breathe catching in my throat, I stutter, "I haven't…." I trail off blushing furiously.

_I can't believe I almost answered that_.

He pauses, "Who's Abby then?"

_Oh, he didn't mean…of course not._

I wonder if it's possible to die of embarrassment? I might find out tonight.

"Abby was a friend. I met her after my first group fell apart."

_When they found out what I was. _

"She didn't make it through the Summer." I'm grateful my eyes don't tear.

"And Thomas?"

_J__esus. Just how much have I said in my sleep?_

I inhale slowly. "I met Thomas after Abby. He was traveling with a group of families. I was with them for part of the first winter."

He'd reminded me of my cousins, I'd been desperate for anything that felt like family. But he turned on me too. I can still remember the fear in his eyes as he asked me what the hell I was.

_I still don't know._

"After that?"

"I was alone for most of the Summer. I met some nasty people. Decided it was just better to avoid anyone after that; safer that way."

"The more desperate people get the more cruelty they excuse."

"Sometimes they were cruel to begin with." My mind slips back to that night in the woods…the screaming…

He's silent so long I wonder if he's fallen asleep.

"Fin."

I tilt my head back waiting.

"How do you pronounce your name?"

_Ah, so he was reading the inscription in my book._

"Seraphim." I listen to him breath in the near dark, wonder what else he's might ask.

"You have a beautiful name, you should use it."

"Thanks. But I don't think I can; I don't think that girl exists anymore."

I close my eyes and wait for sleep.

* * *

Note: Seraphim is pronounced (Ser-a-fim) or (Ser-a-fem) depending on who says it. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **_I own it all! Muhahahahaha! Ahem. Yeah right. ._

**Notes: **Thanks for the reviews to those that too the time to write them; good to know this is being enjoyed. This chapter is definitely earning it's M rating. So be warned! : )

(updated 4/3/14)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

Heat curls through me. I moan, inhale sharply as someone's tongue circles my belly button. Traces wordless patterns across my skin.

My back arches, pelvis thrust subconsciously toward the welcome assault of teeth and tongue that have moved to grace my right hip. Long fingers and warm palms smooth up my thighs. I shake with anticipation. His mouth travels down one leg, hands sliding over my hips tilting me up to a hungry mouth.

His tongue traces me, wet heat engulfs me in delicious sensation. My shoulders buck off the bed fingers clutching reflexively in the sheets, fisting them into tight knots. I Bite my lip to try to stop the groan from escaping as he ducks between my thighs. I tremble and buck unabashedly against his mouth.

_Oh God, please more…I need more…_

He parts me with his tongue, tastes me. Moans my name against my skin as I bury my fingers in his hair. I dig my heels into the mattress, his arm snakes around my lower back, tilting me further so his mouth can devour my heat, all the while making noises in his throat like I'm the most delicious thing to ever grace his tongue.

_Oh God…_

I twist, shudder writhe under his mouth. He traces his fingers over me; parts me with one long digit while I quake with need, every nerve in my body pleading for more.

He circles me with nimble fingers, presses into my wetness as his tongue laps at my clit sending lightening sparks racing up my spine to burst behind my eyes. My nipples harden to tight peaks. The sensations coursing up and down my body so intense as he adds a second finger to his quest that it's almost painful. My breath hisses out and my hips buck.

_I need more…_

His finger scissor and curl against me as he withdraws them completely before plunging into me again. He closes his mouth over me and worships every inch of skin.

He bites down with just the right pressure against my clit as he drives his fingers in and out of my heat.

I twist, cry out in shock as heat blooms up my whole spine. I forget how to breathe as wave after wave of pleasure sear my nerves. While he continues branding his name into my body with his hungry mouth, growling my name; teeth scraping over sensitive skin.

He releases me suddenly.

I moan in protest, but he's already moving to lean over me. He pulls my leg up, drapes my knee over his arm. He graces me with a brief wicked grin while he pins me beneath him.

I can't wait any longer, _I need more_. I rock my pelvis up against him, insides still quivering from my release.

"Now, please, now." I grasp him in one hand. My heart flutters at the heavy weight of him. My fingers can't even wrap around him completely. I groan, pump my hand down his considerable length he bucks forward into my grip with a ragged breath.

"You should tell me to _stop_." He's posed over me. Rock hard shaft just barely parting the folds of my aching center.

I buck towards him in answer, pressing him inside, but not far enough I groan. He jerks forward a scant inch in response, his head thrown back, fighting the urge to slam into me.

"Tell me to stop." His voice is tight. Every muscle stands out in sharp relief in the dim light.

He's shaking; or maybe that's actually me.

He feels so good I can't think; can't breathe. I _need_ him to do this. Need to feel him buried all the way to the hilt, thrusting inside me, spreading this wicked heat through my limbs with each surge of pleasure…

I can't stop him, I don't want to…

I part my legs farther draw my other calf around his hips pulling him down into me. I burn everywhere he's touching me.

I gasp and dig my fingers into his forearms. He thrusts forward, shifts just barely, piercing me further.

I cry out shaking, he's killing me slowly.

I've never wanted someone like this in my entire life...

He's shaking with tension, withdraws and re-enters me in short stilted thrusts that take him barely past my folds.

I need this, need him deep inside me, need him to fix the burning ache consuming me.

"Please God, don't stop, I can't wait any longer," I can't think beyond this moment right here.

I'm nothing but raw nerves and empty heat all pulsing, aching to be filled.

_So close…_he's torturing me on purpose.

I buck towards him on his next thrust, jerk him forward with my calf pressed against his hips taking him by surprise.

"Fuck, Fin! Shit." His hips pump forward driving into me. My body burns he's so big, it's so good, so full it's almost pain.

He rocks into me, sending sparks down my spine. I nearly convulse so many sensations are waging war inside me.

His breath brushes my ear, voice a growl. "Tell me to stop, Fin. Now."

He thrust again, hard and deep.

My eyes prick with tears.

_Don't stop, please…_

He drives into me again, drops his weight from his arms, releasing my leg so that I can slide it around his hips, pulling him closer. His chest slides over mine with each thrust, his palm cups my neck, lifts me so he can bury his head against my shoulder. He shakes beneath my hands as my fingers trail down his spine, grasp his ass. His voice is gruff, and tight against my ear.

"Listen to me."

_I don't want to. I can't…I gasp. Dream Daryl needs to shut the hell up._

"Damnit girl."

His mouth caresses the side of my neck, breath tickles my skin, his mouth is hot, he presses open mouthed kisses down my spine... I shudder.

_I'm so close…._

"Please," I arch back into the sensation and his thrusts falter; he grips my upper arm with near bruising force.

"Fin. _Wake up_. You _have_ to wake up and stop _me_ before this happens."

Arms wrap around my waist from behind, cup my breast.

The throbbing emptiness pounds my senses, drowning out everything else.

I bring my hands up to grasp his forearms...

My breath sighs out with each press of his hot mouth. His hips jump forward to press his clothed erection against my back. I'm embarrassingly wet to be fully clothed still. I arch my neck to let him nip at my collar, he buries his nose in my hair breathing ragged and fast.

I'm not sure if it's my heartbeat or the rain roaring in my ears.

I try to say his name but it's lost in a moan when his teeth slide over my skin.

I feel him grind against me his breath comes out in a harsh grunt of pleasure. I grab for his hands try to still them so I can think, breath, remember if this is real...

He laces his fingers through mine, uses that to pull me farther back against him, rocking his pelvis into me again.

I'm struggling to remember why this is a bad idea when every atom in my body is screaming at me to jump his bones.

Too bad dream Daryl was always around to remind me why that was a terrible idea in real life.

I twist, try to sit up.

"Daryl!"

He stills his breathing is harsh and fast…"What…?"

"I think you were having a nightmare." My breathing matches his.

I struggle to slow it down. My body racked by full body shudders. I'll pretend it's from the cold air now hitting my flushed skin where the blanket has fallen away from me. Try to ignore the way my nipples tighten as a shiver.

"A nightmare?" He sounds dazed.

"Yeah, I think so. Are you okay?"

If he can exist in denial then by God, so can I.

I can't sit here and think about the fact that we both had simultaneous sex dreams about each other.

_Yeah, that's something we're never, Ever going to bring up._

_Ever._

There's no sound but the rain pounding on the roof. I start to count my racing heartbeats.

22….23…24…

"Shit, did I hurt you?" His voice is tight again.

I shake my head, realize he can't see it in the dark.

"No, It was just a dream; doesn't mean anything."

I lay back down he lets out a heavy breath, he seems to realize I'm excusing him, that I'm not going to say anything. I feel him start to relax just a bit. His breathing is still an unsteady mess.

I pull the covers back over my body, reach for him in the dark.

He tenses instantly under my hand doesn't move as I curl against his side, he's barely breathing again.

"Fin." His voice sends sparks shooting to unmentionable places.

"It's cold, please let's just forget it."

I rest my head on my arm, can't get comfortable like that, shift around a bit.

"The Hell you doing?!"

"Trying to get comfortable."

Trying not to think about exactly how warm I could make it under this blanket…

I shift again.

He grabs me, grumbling something under his breath, moves me till my head is on his chest with his arm draped around my back.

I barely breathe for a full minute,

_better…but still not perfect_.

I shift once more sliding one leg over his.

His arm locks around my side, fingers digging into my skin, voice a rough growl in my ear.

"_Quit Moving_."

His head falls back with a soft thump. "Fuck."

He takes three slow inhales, while I hold my breath.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you, but you better quit wiggling your damn ass around and hold still."

I focus on just my breathing for a few minutes.

Maybe I shouldn't have stopped him earlier. I'm so wet and hot I don't think I could sleep in a million years. Where would we be right now if I hadn't stopped him? I have a pretty good idea.

"Daryl..."

"Fuck, Fin What?!"

"It's okay, you know that? I'm not upset."

He scrubs a hand over his face. "Go to sleep,"

I sigh and try once it's obvious he's done talking to me.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

* * *

With morning a heavy fog rolls in, the air is damp and cold on my skin, sucking the heat out of my cheeks.

I duck my head beneath the covers. I can hear the river from here. It finally stopped raining sometime before sunrise, but all that rain and run-off have surely raised the creek's water level to the white frothy rapids I'm hearing now.

At least I'm still warm under the blanket. My head still rests on Daryl's chest. Both his arms now wrapped around my back. I'm sleeping half on him with one leg thrown over his thigh, trapped between his legs.

I've been holding onto his fleece in my sleep. I should move, before he wakes up and this becomes any more weird than it already is between us.

This….this…_whatever it is_...

I let go of his shirt, pull my leg back and move to roll away from him, startled when he speaks the second I turn. Shocked when he follows me, wrapping his arm back around my waist spooning me.

"It's gonna be a fucking nightmare out there."

I can't create an intelligent response to that-my brain is too busy having a complete melt down.

"Fuck it, let's just stay here till Spring. It's too damn cold to be stomping through the woods."

He shifts against me. I swear I just felt his mouth press to the dip where my neck meets shoulder.

A hard shiver runs down my spine, wreaking havoc on my senses.

I clear my throat.

"Glenn might be out there, we promised Maggie we'd find him. And the other kids, they could be out there too."

As warm and inviting as this might feel right now, when he woke up the rest of the way and went back to 'normal Daryl mode' which basically involves lots of grunted responses and staring at me, this would be _pretty_ awkward. And the longer I lie here awake and pressed against him the more my brain spins over last night...and...oh boy.

"Fine, let's get this over with."

* * *

Next chapter we get to meet the Bad guys! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Only Fin, is mine. Though I'd be perfectly happy to give her to AMC so she could kick ass with Daryl and Michonne!

**Notes:** Un-beta'd story. Appologies if You find mistakes; let me know where and I will try to fix them. Thanks!

I have gone through and re-edited a lot of typos that slipped through thanks to those who helped me find them! 4/04

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

We've been walking the river bank all morning.

It's now somewhere after mid-day, not that you can tell from the dreary rolling grey sky. There's been no hint of sun all day, its refusal to come out doing nothing to stop the artic bite in the air. Without a calendar I'd say winter definably started today.

The river is high from yesterday's storm, swelling several feet beyond its normal bed. We give it a wide berth between the slick ground and quick current; falling in could be deadly.

Most of the ground is a muddy ice cold mess of leaves and downed dead branches from the wind. I'm watching my feet more than the tree line today; I've already slipped twice nearly landing on my ass. Never underestimate Georgia Mud: its wicked stuff.

It doesn't help that I'm having trouble focusing on _right now_; and not the events of last night.

I don't want to think about it; and can't stop at the same time. My thoughts are a complex tangle, tug one thread and five more come with it.

I have no idea exactly how to process it all.

My distraction is certainly why Daryl sees him first-the first note of his presence I have is when Daryl calls out to him.

I am much too distracted today for my own good. I need to get it together, maybe we _should_ have stayed in bed; I think my brain did.

I look up to see a man taller and heavier set then Daryl or Rick jogging up the steep hill towards us. He's dressed warmly, if a bit ill fitted, he's carrying a hunting rifle, but doesn't look particularly comfortable with it. He holds it away from his body just enough that it looks awkward, unnatural in his grip.

Like he's afraid it's going to turn on him and blast off his own fingers.

How anyone could survive without a comfortable knowledge of weapons out here I don't know.

"Daryl, It's good to see you still alive."

"Same. Anyone else make it?"

He's nodding.

"About half the bus, quite a few people caught stray bullets in the firefight. We made it up the road but it was blocked, we had to use a different route, no one wanted to leave the bus and risk walking. We got really lucky this nice family took us all in; no questions asked. Even tried to patch everyone up. It's amazing, they have food, and said we're all welcome to stay with them."

_Oh God No._

"You should come back with us, that's why I'm out here; we're looking for anyone else that made it."

_Of course they are. And they're out here, right now._ "Shit."

I hope my previous distraction isn't about to get me killed.

"Fin?" Daryl isn't looking at him anymore, he's staring at me.

I've already nocked an arrow, don't remember doing it. I'm too busy searching the trees, which brother is it? How many of them are out here? They wouldn't leave that many people un-attended at the farm, wouldn't risk someone stumbling onto their secret…

"Well, Well, Fin. As I live and breathe!"

_Fuck! Shit. Caleb. _

I've got an arrow pointed at his head, but he's already got his rifle pointed at me, a lazy predatory smile splits his face.

"Whoa, Caleb! Take it easy! This is Daryl, he's part of my previous group."

Caleb doesn't care, Daryl might as well be invisible. He winks at me. My skin crawls.

"Think you can take me out before I put a bullet in that pretty little skull Dollface?"

"Put it down asshole." Daryl's crossbow is up pointed at Caleb too.

"I've got no problem with you. Why don't you shoot this abomination for me and come back with Gary and me? You're more than welcome; She isn't." He sneers, licks his lips; all the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I feel ready to crawl out of my own skin. I shudder.

"Hey Caleb, let's be reasonable, She's just some girl!" Gary is looking back and forth between us, no idea who to side with.

He has no idea who I am, which is good.

I don't need _two_ guns to watch.

But it won't take him long to throw his hat in with someone.

"She's evil Daryl." Caleb is still trying to turn him against me, smart; if it's one against three I've got zero chance in a straight fight. I can't avoid three attacks at once from every direction. "She lives with Walkers man, that's sick."

"Yeah well, at least I don't _eat people_."

"What the Hell is going on here?" Gary is kind of freaking out; looks like he's not built for high stress situations. Which is _fan-fucking-tastic;_ add loose cannon to my list of problems.

"Shoot her Gary and we can go home heroes."

"I'm not shooting anybody, what is going on here?!"

"What's going on is your boy needs to get that gun off my girl before I give him some extra holes!" Seems Daryl's still on my side, for now. Caleb seems to finally notice him. I try to think, plan my attack while he's focused on Daryl.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. She's obviously been feeding you lies, why don't we take a walk back to my families place. We can work this out. Bring the girl, I promise no one will hurt you." He smiles, it doesn't improve his offer.

He must be out here alone with Gary. _I might have a chance._

"Let me guess, you can all discuss it over a big ole BBQ?" _No fucking thanks._

Daryl is moving closer to me, I tense. I can either assume he's moving to block Caleb's shot; putting himself in danger… or worse he's taking him up on his offer.

"Stop Moving Daryl or I'll shoot."

He stops. Hisses at me, "Damnit girl."

Gary's still not aiming his gun at anyone. I need to move before he sides with Caleb; never underestimate the power of a full stomach.

A sweet tooth doped Hansel and Gretel right into the oven…and they'd been well fed to begin with...

"Give it up Caleb, we can both walk away from this. You know you don't want to be late for _dinner_."

His answering smile could peel paint.

"Yeah, let's do that. Let's all just back away!" Poor Gary, sounds ready to have an aneurism. "It doesn't have to be like this,"

_Oh but it does. _

_And we both know it._

Caleb fires with almost no warning—the twitch near his eye is all the signal I have to move. I jerk to the side; turning making myself a smaller target. I let my arrow fly, but my aim is off with the spin-with Daryl shoving me away even as I move.

Whether it was that or a crappy shot: by some miracle he misses us both, even at this range.

Maybe his ammo has gone bad…

Like I'd be that lucky.

Gary has made a snap decision in the commotion, raises his rifle towards me. Daryl fires, Gary screams and drops his arm but not the rifle, charges him. I can't watch-can't help.

Caleb is moving, I duck behind a tree, nock another arrow.

"Come on out Fin, let's talk about this, maybe over dinner?"

"Go to Hell." I step out, slip in the loose mud as I fire. I hit him in the shoulder not the throat. _Fuck._ At least he's a shit shot running, heat slices the left side of my neck, wood slivers from the tree he just massacred cutting me as the crack of gunfire explodes through the surrounding trees.

He's got the gun up before I can retreat, still trying to sliding out of my pack, dropping my bag and quiver to the ground, if this is going to be a fist fight I need to move quickly, don't want him to grab me…

I manage to smash his stomach with a swing of my bow as he charges me screaming. But he's close enough to smash my head with the butt of his rifle instead of backing off. I sprawl backwards slipping, rolling, get up to find my vision still spinning. I'm trying to put a tree between us so I have a split second to recover.

I catch a glimpse of Daryl and Gary as I move, Gary has his gun again; but he's not shooting; he's swinging it like a club.

Daryl moves lightening quick sends him flying with a boot to the chest. But Gary's bigger then him by at least a foot, and damn near 80 pounds, he doesn't go down-recovers fast enough that he connects the rifle butt with a crack to Daryl's head.

I _hear_ it connect, screaming my warning a second too late.

Then I lose them, having to duck around a trunk to avoid Caleb's arms, he jumps at me gambling on his bulk to take me out.

I'm a little faster though, blocking the hand that's swipe down at me with a hunting knife. It's enough force that I almost fall though; I kick out, he knows enough to jump back, protecting his knees, clearly he learned that last time...

He swings his rifle forward again, apparently deciding that he is going to just shoot me, I freeze expecting the blast; see him turn, aim the shot at Daryl. I Blindly charge forward grabbing the hot barrel, spinning him away. Then I can't hear anything but the ringing in my ears…

Someone might be screaming, maybe it's me. It might be Daryl...my heart nearly stops. I can't see; I'm too close to Caleb who grabs me, wastes no time inflicting pain….At least he's lost the knife. We both slip; go down in a tangle of limbs. I twist: gain some leverage ripping the arrow shaft out of his shoulder, know if I end up on the bottom I'm dead.

If I'm not already.

His knee hits my stomach, knocks the arrow out of my hand before I can stab him with it again. I smash the heel of my hand into his nose as hard as I can, slam a hand over his ear making him recoil long enough for me to try to get away. But it's not enough, he grabs me, I try to spin away, slipping again in the God Damn mud. and wet leaves.

We go down, tumble, roll...

Crashing down the other side of the hill. Something; maybe an elbow, hits my throat, something rough and ice cold a root or rock smashes the back of my head. We're still tumbling, kicking out, I'm clawing at anything I can to stop...

I have about a split second to realize the roaring isn't from the blows to my head before I'm air born. Caleb clinging to my back and I'm plunged down into icy breath stealing cold.

Inky Dark, swirling cold engulfs me with Caleb's hands still griping my body. I panic, thrash to break free, need to get away from him. It will be all too easy for him to drown me all he has to do is keep holding on while the current makes it almost impossible to tell which way is up…

He's as panicked as I am though and kicks towards the surface, taking me with him. I have only a moment to gasp for air before he recovers, shoves me back under, holding me down as we sail down river smashing into rocks and debris as we go.

I lash out, try to hit him; but I'm fighting the resistance of the water and my own terrified mind; my blows connect with no force. I try to tell myself not to scream, panic and drown faster…

The currents press up my nose, fill my ears with the endless rushing of water. My lungs are on fire, I exhale, desperate to stop the fire in my chest, try to suck in air, water fills my mouth. I twist trying to escape his hold, air...I need air…all I find is water.

_This is it._ My vision starts to fray, darken with red spots.

I realize with an almost serene calm that they've won. _They got to me first._

Caleb's hands go slack on my shoulders but I'm so numb, so dizzy it barely registers. I'm just floating with the swirling water, its warm now, that's nice.

I'll just float along like this, it's peaceful. More peaceful and aware than I thought death would be…

_maybe I'm finally one of them…This isn't so bad…_

A vice grip slams over my right arm, pinches my other arm; hauls me up against the current; out of the blackness. The current swirls and spins angry over being robbed of its prize.

Sharp cold air hits me like a slap in the face…or maybe that was a hand…

Someone is shouting; the words smear together, blend with the water in my ears to nonsensical sound with no significance.

I'm moving, tumbling, land with a bone jarring thump that wakes up the tiny angry ice picks jabbing at every inch of my skin in the open air...

_God put me back in the water; it was warm there…_

I lie there watching sky swirl overhead,

_I feel so heavy..._

I try to breath but only wet gurgles from my lips.

_funny that used to work..._

I'm spinning so fast….can't work out why.

The darkness is nice.

* * *

::Walking Dead ::


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **The main character's aren't mine, I'm just taking them out to play with for a while; I promise to treat them better than the writers of the show…well….for the most part… : P

**Notes:** This chapter cover's the fight from 12 from Daryl's POV, and stays with him after Fin takes a dunk in the drink since she's hardly in a position to tell us what's going on. This and the previous chapter are some of my few attempts at 'fight or action' scenes so I hope I made them believable and most importantly—I hope they made sense! ; )

Oh, someone asked how tall Fin is supposed to be since I mentioned in the story she's shorter then Carl and had to lean forward to look over the dash while driving.

Carl's actor is 5'4" in real life, Seraphim is supposed to be around 5' 1". So that height makes her the smallest in the group.

(Reedus is actually 5'10" Which surprised me; he seems so much larger on screen I thought he was at least 6'!)

Thanks to all the reviews, keep um coming, please and thank you!

updated 4/4

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

He knew there was a problem the moment the blood drained from her cheeks.

Something is very, very wrong.

For a girl who spent her time alone in the woods surrounded by Walker's to freak out…

This is going to be '_Woodbury Bad'_ all over again, he can feel it.

"Well, well Fin. As I live and breathe!"

He jerks his bow up to the guy standing only twenty feet away, she does the same; actually takes a step back instinctively, utters a soft curse.

He doesn't look like a huge threat; _they never do_. He's dressed in hunting camouflage gear and has a hunting rifle pointed at her head. He hasn't even acknowledged Daryl's existence.

Daryl can almost feel the tense waves rolling off her; she looks ready to bolt into the woods at any second.

She stands firm though; tension on her bow, arrow aimed at the new guy's face. She pulls it back further as he steps closer.

"Whoa, whoa! Caleb calm down, this is Daryl. He was part of my previous group."

Caleb doesn't even acknowledge Gary. He's just staring down Fin like he wants to eat her alive.

"Think you can take me out before I put a bullet in that pretty little skull, Dollface?"

"Put it down asshole." He steps forward, trying to move to Fin's side. Needs to get between them, if he fires he'll blow her head off at this distance. He needs to defuse this situation if he can; get her the Hell away from this guy that's making her shake like a leaf.

Caleb grins at Fin ignoring him completely. Daryl notices her hands have just barely start to shake. She takes another telling step backwards trying to keep distance between them.

This monster isn't touching her. Just the thought makes him see red. Is this the Asshole she has nightmares about? He's going to find out, and if it is he vows to kill him.

Very slowly…

"I've got no problem with you. Why don't you shoot this abomination for me and come back with Gary and me? You're more than welcome; She isn't." He's still watching her, licks his fucking lips.

Forget the bow. He's going to gut him, rip his insides out with his bare hands.

"Hey Caleb, let's be reasonable, She's just some girl!" Gary is totally clueless, if it wasn't for the time he'd spent protected in Woodbury he'd have been dead a long time ago.

Reasonable doesn't look like something this guy Caleb does.

Fin talked about monsters.

_She's right. When you meet them: you just Know._

"She's evil Daryl. She lives with Walkers, that's sick." Caleb is obviously trying to appeal to him, not going to work.

"Yeah, well at least I don't _Eat People_." She snaps.

Course not, _Hell kind of comment is that_?

Daryl pauses, gaze moving from her rigid back to take in Caleb's expression, watches the other man's expression darken while his grin widens.

She's not suggesting…F_ucking Hell_. He's going to be sick. How many of their people were injured, easy pickings? Glenn was still sick when they were attacked…the small kids…

"What the Hell is going on here?" Gary the idiot, still talking. He's always been about as useful as tits on a bull.

"Shoot her Gary and we can go home heroes." Caleb doesn't take his eyes off her.

He barely registers Gary's response.

He's too busy fighting the intense hate that's making his fingers twitch towards the trigger, makes him want to bash his crossbow into Caleb's fucking face for looking at her like that. Smash his skull for even thinking about threatening her-let alone doing it right here in front of him.

He's never itched to beat a man's within an inch of his life so badly.

"What's going on is your boy needs to get that gun off _my girl_ before I give him some extra holes!"

Caleb finally looks at him, when he does Daryl swears Fin starts to breathe again for the first time since he appeared.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. She's obviously been feeding you lies. Why don't we take a walk back to my families place. We can work this out. Bring the girl, I promise no one will hurt you." He smiles, smooth talker.

Something about him makes Daryl's skin crawl. He's about to tell him to Go to Hell when she speaks up.

"Let me guess, You can all discuss it over a big ole BBQ?" Fin's tone is sarcastic, but her voice is shaking.

Daryl moves closer to her, sees her tense; she can't possibly think he'd take up this asshole on his deal, how can she think that?

The thought prickles and twists his insides.

"Stop Moving Daryl or I'll shoot." He stops feels a snarl building.

_The Fuck is she doing? _

"Damnit girl."

_Trying to take on the whole world..._

His hands itch to grab her, shove her behind him; shake her and tell her she's never walking through the woods ever again. Not if this is going to happen….he can't do this…not again.

First Sophia, then Merle and Carol…he's done with losing everyone he's ever given a shit about.

She ignores him. "Give it up Caleb, we can both walk away from this. You know you don't want to be late for _dinner_."

His answering smile could fuel Daryl's nightmares for years.

"Yeah, let's do that. Let's all just back away!" Gary's voice is high. He's not watching Caleb's face.

Taking in the way he's watching Fin like he just found a shiny new toy he can't wait to take home and break open.

"It doesn't have to be like this…"

_He has no idea._

Caleb shoulders tense bracing for the recoil before he squeezes the trigger. Daryl leaps forward kicks out at Fin, sends her sprawling farther into the side step she was already half through having noticed it was time as well.

Their standoff is over; now they just have to survive the fight.

Two on one shouldn't be too bad…until he sees Gary out of the corner of his eye raise his gun, but not at Caleb. Gary's pointing the barrel at Fin's back as she squares off with Caleb who isn't shooting for some reason. Maybe he only had the one bullet; maybe they can both survive this if he can stop Gary from shooting her in the back like a chicken shit coward.

He notes Caleb is charging at Fin as he's turning, moving to deal with Gary instead.

A disturbing thought slides through him, maybe Caleb has bullets, and just wants to crush her in his bare hands... He's almost three times her size…

He needs to stop Gary so he can help her. Daryl spins, moves to block him, he doesn't want to kill him—it's not his fault he's an idiot.

When he moves to fire Daryl has no choice, He nearly drops the rifle when the arrow embeds itself in his upper arm. "Drop it!" He doesn't instead charging blindly at him screaming like a madman.

Gary swipes at him, it's a clumsy stumble that he avoids. He spins to track his opponent, sees Fin on the ground, she stumbles…gets up; slipping, bright red blood on her shirt, it's running in a steady trickle from her hairline, down to her neck.

She's wincing…

Gary whips the rifle butt at him like a damn club, he jerks back but not fast enough: feels the crack, the world tilts, forest spins around him in lazy circles.

_God damn. _ _It's been a while since someone cleaned his clock._

Watching the damn girl is going to get him killed.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his vision when Fin screams. He can't breathe, a gunshot cracks like thunder Daryl's ear's ring it was so close.

Bastard had bullets after all.

He no longer registers the ringing in his ears, or the pounding in his chest; Fin's not screaming anymore.

He sees nothing, lashes out blindly with his fist, vision still off kilter, he watches Gary fall back, lie still, blood spilling out of the pit in his stomach…_The fuck?_

It's a gut shot at close range.

Caleb must have been aiming for him and missed, but then why did Fin scream?

He spins, neither of them are there.

He turns around, looks for Fin, heart pounding harder when he doesn't see her.

He heard her only moments before; he couldn't have dragged her off that fast. He stumbles forward to where they were last, eyes to the ground, reading the scuffle in the wet earth.

He bends, snatches his crossbow off the ground, _where is she?_

_Where the fuck is Caleb_? His brain tortures him with a progressively sickening rolodex of imageries, _if he's touched her…_

Fin lets out a scream that ends abruptly, he doesn't think just bolts towards the river.

Sees the deep gouges in the dirt, the sliding, trampled earth and mud tracks where they tumbled end over end trying to stop before dumping into the water.

He's running downhill before he's aware he told his feet to move, sliding, leaping, managing to snag a thick tree trunk just before he plummets into the water himself….he searches the surface frantically.

Moves to follow the current searching, searching…for movement; the color of her hair; anything to tell him where she is…

_There!_ She pops up between two white swirling peaks of water gasping for air. The water is a freezing churning mud colored mass with a current strong enough to snap bones on any of the downed limbs and half covered rocks.

Caleb is next to her, grabs the back of her head, forces her down as the current sweeps them further downstream.

He's running, thankfully faster than the water, by the time he reaches them Caleb's feet seem to have found some solid ground. He's standing, water pushing at his waist. He's struggling to fighting the current's sharp pull taking little steps as it shoves against him; but he's still holding her under.

The water around her swirls, splashes and bubbles as she fights against his hold.

Bastard piece of shit is not going to drown her.

Daryl's leaping, jumping in, lands not five feet from the motherfucker, fires without thinking, aiming in a blind rage. Caleb reels as the arrow embeds itself between his shoulder blades, he spins to face Daryl, lets Fin go.

Daryl doesn't wait for her to get up, already rushing forward bow raised to smash its end two handed into Caleb's startled face. The bone crushing impact sends him lurching back. Caleb twists trying to get away even as Daryl smashes the bow into the side of his head, blood spills down into Caleb's eyes blinding him. Daryl is smashing him again as he falls face first into the river, he brings it down once more as Caleb bobs under the water with the blow, rising back up lifeless as he's floating away.

He's been yelling, has no idea what…the urge to keep smashing until Caleb is nothing but a pulverized lump of meat still roars through him.

The sight of Fin, still face down in the river being carried off by the current stops him.

He curses lifts his legs to run with the water letting it carry him towards her limp form.

He manages to get his hands on her before they're back in deep water. He hauls her up from the current by her arms, jerking her back against his chest. Next he's locking an arm around her waist so he can take them back to shore…she's not moving, he tries slapping her cheek and gets nothing...

_She can't die like this. _

_Three years alone, and the first time she trusts someone else to keep her safe he gets her fucking killed by her worst nightmare. _

_He was supposed to watch her back—and he delivered her to the devil instead._

Caleb's body is floating away bright red swirls curl away from his body lost in the swirling water, his body spins lazily on the current the arrow sticking out of his back as he slides away.

If she's dead, he's going to hunt the fucker down so that when he turns he can kill him again. Hack him into smaller and smaller pieces, slowly…

_And it won't be enough…_

He's moving his feet against the current, calling her name…total nonsense spilling out of his _god damn_ mouth as he's hauling her toward the bank. He has to grab at limbs and branches with his free hand to help him move against the water's insistent pull, hindered by her limp weight, and cold limbs.

She still hasn't moved when he reaches the bank, lurches out, nearly falling trying to fight a frustrating combination of gravity, a slick muddy bank and heavy wet clothes.

He drops her to the ground in a fumble of cold uncoordinated muscles and blind panic.

He's calling to her again, praying for a response. He shakes her limp form; her eyes are glassy and unmoving, skin pale and ice cold against the dark mud on the bank. He feels for a pulse, finds one; it's weak. She's not breathing.

_She probably drank half the river…_

He tries pressing air into her lungs, her lips are ice cold under his, nothing like he imagined.

He tries again, he's never done this shit, but it doesn't seem to be working.

He turns her to her side pounds her back for lack of any other ideas.

By the fifth or sixth smack she jerks; retches and gags, water gurgles from her mouth, out her nose even. She's choking and coughing, whole body shaking with the violence of expelled water….but she's alive…she's breathing. Retching up muddy water between gasps of air.

He keeps his hands on her back, needing to touch her, even while she rolls almost face down in the mud gasping in air with ragged breaths, her fingers flexing into fistfuls of soft wet dirt.

She stays like that on her side trying to catch her breath for several minutes. He hates to ask her to move so soon after nearly drowning; but her whole body is now afflicted with tremors from the cold. Her lips look pale and her skin a little blue when she rolls back to stare blankly up at the sky again. He can hear her teeth chattering with each raspy breath.

They're both soaked, and the air can't be more than 40 degrees. Even though the sun hasn't made an appearance all day it has darkened more in the last hour telling him that sunset is not far off. The temperature will likely plummet further by nightfall.

If they don't find shelter and get warm he may still lose her to hypothermia.

He hauls her up, wrapping an arm around her back, pulls her to his chest. She's still coughing occasionally, but at least she's stopped throwing up. She tries to say something, but her voice is an indistinguishable rasp.

"Don't. We have to move, get the bags, find shelter." She nods into his chest; the movement is more a shuddering jerk of her chin against his chest than an agreement.

He stands, drags her up, and finds he's completely supporting her weight with his arm as she leans against him, knees nearly buckling with the next shiver.

_Not good._ She's completely defenseless. He quickly scans the river bank checking for Walkers, sees none thankfully. Considers leaving her for just a few minutes so he can grab their bags; but he can't bring himself to do it.

"Come On," His arm tightens around her.

He walks and she stumbles nearly pulling him down to his knees. Her head shaking a negative.

"Up the bank girl, go." He can't leave her here. He's also sure he can't climb the steep incline of the bank with wet ground and carry her. The whole thing reminds him of another steep bank in the middle of Summer; at least he didn't get shot with an arrow during the fight earlier...

He wraps both arms around her, pulls her up straight again, has to lean his head down to her ear.

"Stay with me Fin, You can do this." She finally nods though it ends in a full body shudder that rattles her teeth.

He holds under her arm with one hand, grabs a tree limb, climbs, and pulls. She stumbles, but stays upright grabbing limbs, and branches as they climb up the gulley to level ground Daryl half dragging her the last bit once his feet are on solid ground.

His arms are around her once more to steady her as she gasps for air after the effort. "You drop your bow in the river?"

She blinks up at him, eyes large a strange swirl of green and grey, with little flecks of blue around her iris just barely visible standing this close to her. Blood is still trickling down one side of her face; though it's slowed...maybe she has a concussion? She hasn't answered him yet, still staring up at his face like she doesn't know him.

He raises one hand, feels along her hairline; locates the split in her skin, the source of the blood. It's not terrible, stitches would probably be useful if they were possible, they'll have to make due. He'll have to improvise.

He grabs the hem of her long sleeve shirt, starts to lift it over her head, her eyes go wide.

"No…"

"It's wet, it's not doing you a damn bit of good."

She shakes her head fiercely but he pulls it up and off her anyway, her protests feeble in her current state. He's yanking the wet material off her arms while she jerks back nearly falling on her ass. He grabs her arms again.

"Hold still Damnit."

She stands there in a pink tank top and forearm guards for her bow, if she wasn't shaking like a leaf he'd call the look she's giving him a death glare.

She looks like a tiny angry wet kitten.

His mouth twitches up as he presses the wet cloth to her forehead. A shiver rips down his own spine, he notices his hands are shaking as he dabs the cloth over the blood.

They need to move.

He repeats his question. "You're bow, is it in the river?"

"N…no…I..thinnk…I droppped iittt." Her teeth chatter so hard around the words he can barely understand her. But at least she's responding.

He takes her hand raises it to press over the cloth on her forehead, notices the skin over her shoulder and upper arm slightly pucker with scars, barely visible on her ghostly pale skin. _That explains the long sleeves…looks like something tore into her._

He slides his bow over his shoulder and scoops her up with one hand behind her knees. She doesn't protest, which surprises him.

He's lucky the current hasn't carried them too far, he makes it back before Gary has turned. He wraps his arm tighter around her back, sets her feet down, leans her against a tree while he quickly locates her bow and a few dropped arrows that spilled from her quiver during the scuffle.

They're incredibly lucky she dropped her quiver when she dropped her pack in the initial fight, they'll still have arrows to defend themselves with; assuming they live through the night.

He puts her pack on, a little surprised at it's weight. Slides both bows over his own shoulder, moves to stand over Gary's dead body reaching for his knife.

"Le….leave him." She's shaking so hard he can see it from here.

He returns to her side, feels her slide her arm around his shoulder when he stoops to pick her up again.

He tries not to think about how hard it is to carry her. It shouldn't be…she's so tiny, but he's breathing a bit too harsh; chest tight.

It feels like a thousand needles are piercing his skin. His clothes stick to him, ice cold pulling all the heat from his body.

They both need to get dry and warm, now. It's quickly becoming a matter of life and death.

He's been walking for what feels like hours in agony but in reality is probably minutes when she stops shaking, goes limp in his arms.

He calls her name, shakes her, but she doesn't respond.

Not good, he can still see her shallow breathing; hear the air that wheezes out of her abused lungs.

How far have they traveled? How close are they to that farm?

She never even mentioned the possibility that they might run into someone like that. If he understood what she was telling him that Caleb guy, and his family are God Damn Cannibals.

When she wakes up he's going to tear her a new ass.

Damn girl had _better wake up_.

He has to tell her he's completely on board with annihilating her monsters.

He shudders so hard he nearly drops her, his muscles threatening to lock up in useless spasms. He stops for a moment trying to collect himself. His finger's ache from holding her so tight; afraid he's going to drop her, not be able to pick her back up. His heart is pounding, every inch of his body is on fire. Part of his brain tells him to just stop, set her down, warm himself up, but he's afraid they're not safe…an outline in the trees catches his eye.

He moves closer hoping his find it's in good enough shape structurally not to collapse on their heads. It looks like an old tobacco or smoke shed.

It's small, less than 12 feet wide, the boards are ancient worn and grey weathered wood. Some of the slats are missing; but the majority of boards are intact enough that he might be able to keep a fire without anyone being able to see it for miles in the dark. It might offer at least some protection from Walkers, especially since there is no way she can set up that tent in her current state; and he sure as Hell can't do it.

He circles it, tripping over his own feet with the effort to keep moving, finds a door in the far side. He sets her down as carefully as he can; which means he still drops her the last two feet.

He tries not to think about the fact that she doesn't complain about that; doesn't move at all…he pulls his crossbow forward and pushes the door open.

There are enough holes in the metal roof to see the deserted dirt floor inside is empty of bodies or people.

He steps inside, double checks then drops the bows and bag, leaving the door open behind him so he can keep one eye on her he opens her bag as quickly as his shaking hands will let him; grabs the sleeping bag and shakes it out onto the dry ground. Then he steps back outside. Lifts Fin's limp body up by her armpits, has to bend down to lift her over his shoulder unable to get her up into his arms without losing his balance.

Warning bells are clanging in his head, telling him how much danger they're both in… but all he can think about is her not answering him when he steps inside lets her slide down in front of him, drops her back to sit on the dirt floor, lays her back to lie down; completely limp.

"Fin. Fin, Seraphim!" He shakes her, Nothing.

He's torn between starting a fire and stripping off wet clothes. His brain a fumbled mess of raw nerve endings screaming at him in pain while he tries to remember what's more important right now...

_Screw it._

He grabs her tank top pulls it over her head, then grabs the buckles at her waist unclipping them as fast as he can with uncooperative fingers. Yanks the ties on her boots, and pulls them off, peels off the wet socks next. Then her pants trying not to look. They stick to her hips, and legs, her skin is ice cold, clammy under his hands as he tugs them off nearly falling on his ass.

He doesn't intend for her undergarments to come off with the pants; but he has such a hard time pulling her wet pants down her legs he doesn't want to waste time trying to put wet clothes back on her, modesty be damned right now.

If she lasts the night she can try to kill him in the morning.

He half drags, half lifts her onto the open sleeping bag, folds the top portion over her limp form, hoping to hold in any body heat she might have retained, and begins stripping his own clothing.

He's so cold he forgets for a second to untie his own boots, trying to toe them off his feet and nearly falling down he's shaking so hard. He's finally striped down to nothing, he debates starting a fire, but doesn't think he can in his current state, he can't even feel his fingers anymore. He lays there clothes flat quickly; hoping they'll start to dry. Considers trying to make a fire once more until the next round of full body shivers rattle his teeth and almost knock him on his ass.

Then settles for climbing into the sleeping bag with her instead, fingers fumbling at the zipper to close in as much heat as possible, though he leaves it open enough that he could hopefully react and grab his bow incase anything tried to break in.

She hasn't moved in a while. Her skin is ice cold against his, colder in fact.

She's half his size and was in the water twice as long. He checks the pulse at her neck with clumsy fingers, tries to wrack his blank brain for what to do next. Finally sets to work rubbing his hands over her arms, pulls her hands to his mouth breathing on them.

Working them between his own cold fingers, before massaging up her arms again to her shoulders.

He pauses. He can't bring himself to touch her chest, can't reach her legs. He rolls her clumsily onto her side so he can lay behind her like they have the last few nights. He jumps back at first when his chest comes into contact with her frozen skin.

Does his best to wrap his arms around her, rubbing his hands over the parts of her he's okay with touching. Finds himself with his nose buried in her hair, somehow despite being dumped in a river and rolling around in the mud she still smells faintly of cinnamon and vanilla.

He's going to have to take another look at those damn bottles when they get home.

_Home _

He starts, surprised by the thought. The prison was home for a time, the farm…the house of his childhood never felt like one…he didn't really know what a home felt like- even as an adult. It was just a place to sleep; eat a meal.

Now his home was with his family, Rick and Carl, Maggie and Glenn, Beth, and the others…Now home was supposed to be the warehouse.

Fin's home; his home-_their home._

He realizes over the past few days he's started hoping she won't run away like he expected in the beginning, there's room in their group for her, he hopes she knows that.

She stirs against him, he stills.

"Fin?" Still nothing.

The ceiling holes and missing boards let in just enough light that he can see her face.

The bleeding stopped finally at least. Dried blood is smeared down her cheek, has run in her ear.

She moans in her sleep, shivers. He wraps his arms back around her in reflex pulling her tight to his chest.

_No big deal, just like every other night, just trying to keep warm._ He's just going to ignore the fact that she's naked, he's trying to keep her alive damnit.

His eyes feel heavy, like his limbs...There's not much else he can do at this point, he's exhausted, and bitter cold…unsure if it's safe to sleep…not sure he can stop himself from blacking out anyway now that he's no longer moving.

He lets his eyes slip shut, feels her hands wrap around his arm, holding him as he passes out.

* * *

_to be continued..._

* * *

**Notes:** So I'm torn here, this could go two ways; I could keep everything between them dreams...which preserves Daryl's Character 'virgin' status as set in the show...or Not. xD

Suggestions?

I could write this either way! : )

Big thank you to everyone still with us!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of the original characters from the Walking Dead, though Technically AMC, it's writers and Norman Reedus own the idea of Daryl Dixon. I'm borrowing him to let my muse play.

**Notes:** Rated M for Language and gratuitous descriptions of Nakedness : P

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

_I'm dreaming. _

I know I must be dreaming because several things make absolutely _no sense._

One; I'm lying on the ground—I never sleep on the ground. _Ever._

Two; I'm not alone, and since this is a my dream I've got a pretty good idea just who's arm is wrapped around me—not that I'm in _any_ way complaining considering the direction my dreams have been going lately.

And Finally; and this is the _Big One_.

_I'm Naked._

It doesn't get any more ridiculous than that.

_Naked. _

_In a sleeping bag—_

_with Daryl._

_Thanks brain. Attraction dually noted. _

_I obviously need my head examined._

At the very least I need to switch to something other than romance novels when I get home. They've apparently melted my brain into so much sex-obsessed-goo; I've become incapable of G-rated dreams.

Oh well, It's not like this would ever happen in real life—might as well enjoy it.

And it beats the hell out of night terrors.

I wiggle my hips scooting back into his chest, his arms tighten around me in reaction pulling me in close till I'm flush with him; skin on…._oh my._

_Dream Daryl is naked too._

I hum in approval the sound changes to a soft moan when his hands slide up from my waist. His rough calloused fingertips teasing over soft pliant skin creating the most appealing friction.

A groan of approval escapes my lips as I arch into warm palms cupping my breasts. I lean back into a warm muscled chest. Sigh in approval at the sensation, raise one hand to cup the back of his head; run my fingers through thick hair. Tilt my chin so his lips can continue trailing soft open-mouthed kisses across my skin. His lips move up to my ear, travel back down to nibble my collar.

I moan, press my thighs together over the heat roaring from my apex to flood my whole body. I need pressure, friction, something more…One of his hands leaves my breasts, edges down my side to wrap around my hip—holds me still as his hips press against me; every nerve ending in my whole body arcing with tiny sparks of pleasure at his touch.

My breath leaving me in a strangled gasp, I grind blindly back into the sensation of his erection pressing to the curve of my ass.

I moan, tilt my head offering him more access—more skin to suckle and nip. My hips incline towards him without thought, my body on autopilot; seeking release. I gasp and grind against his length pulling a rough moan from his lips.

_I need more…need to touch him; all of him. _

I twist in his arms; turn till his arms pull me in again. Flush against the inviting heat of his chest, a sigh escapes me. Its cold tonight, his heat feels glorious drifting across my skin…I want to spread it over every inch of my body. Wrap myself in it, and get lost.

I let my hands trail over his chest through the sparse hair over his heart; feel its pounding beat under my fingertips. Run my fingers down over the firm muscles in his core—feel them tense and jump under my questing fingers. I dip my head, tuck my face into the warmth under his chin, breathe him deep into my lungs.

He smells wild, and dangerous, and very faintly like earth and leather.

It's a fascinating mixture that makes my head whirl.

I run my hands back up his well-muscled arms, thrilled that I get to feel them flex under my hands… I've been more than a little distracted by these perfectly muscled arms for days.

My fingertips trace up to broad shoulders, down his back. I pause, perplexed by my new discovery.

Shallow dips transverse the skin of his back. They crisscross the wide otherwise smooth expanse between his shoulder blades. I trace my fingers over them breathing against his skin; feel him tense under my hands.

His breath catches but he doesn't move beyond tensing muscles; he doesn't stop my searching fingers.

It's an odd thing for my dream to have; he's never had marks on his skin like these before… That thought tugs at my conscious for a moment; till his mouth finds my neck and I'm too focused on the way his breath feels against my skin…the heat of his lips traveling across my spine to taste the dip of my shoulder to spare another thought for my previous discovery.

I let my hands slide down to his chest, almost to his hips…find a second rough spot marring his perfect side, halfway down just below his ribs. I slide my hands over the skin eyes closed face pressed against his neck, breathing unsteady; trying to read his skin like braille, unsure what happened here….why it's in my dream.

He tenses under my fingers when my hand dips lower.

Now his breathing changes, coming in harsh pants against my skin, his fingers tighten over my skin when my fingers find another very interesting part of him. One I'm far more interested in exploring further.

He shakes when I touch him; wrap my fingers around him. Pump down his length. His hands find my body in the dark one on my hip the other grabs my arm—like he's going to stop me…But when my hand pumps down him again all his fingers do is tighten to an almost painful grip. A groan escapes him.

His hips buck forward into my hand. He obviously enjoys the sensation, I'm curious about the hesitation...

Dream Daryl has always been more aggressive…until now.

He patiently waits, breathing ragged; tiny tremors of tension moving through his whole frame while I explore him. He's still not speaking, his hands motionless where he first laid them against my skin.

And that won't do.

I release him, take his hand from my side. He lets go instantly with the gentle tug of my fingers, his breathing fast and ragged when I place his hand against my cheek.

I lift up to move, one hand against his shoulder pushing him, slide my leg over him, he lays back without a fight, his breath catching when I straddle his waist just above his hips. His breathing the only other obvious reaction beyond his finger's tightening over my upper arm.

The room spins for a moment with my change in elevation.

I didn't expect that—am unsure why I'm suddenly dizzy.

I must move or make some sound of distress because his previously quiet hands move then—the hand on my arm slides up to my shoulder steadying me; bracing my weight while I take in several shaky breaths trying to orient myself.

When I don't move for almost a full minute his fingers slide back from my cheek, cup the side of my face. I lean into his touch eyes closed tightly against the spinning darkness. It doesn't help…

_Why am I so dizzy? _

I don't move, just breath slowly in and out, waiting for the world to stop its crazy tilting ballet.

The cold air on my back sends a shiver racing down my spine, my whole body shudders in response. I'm instantly colder than I expected which is odd, I felt warm a moment before.

I miss the heat of his chest pressed to mine. I shiver, the muscles in my arms trembling under my weight.

"Fin?" He moves then; sits up. His hands pushing at my shoulders till I slide backwards onto his lap as he rises-gasp when the change in position brings his erection so close to where I want him to be…

He leans towards me. I'm straddled over his lap; find myself wrapped back in the heat of his chest as he drapes his arm around my shoulders again pulling me against him.

I let my head drop; forehead pressed to the crook of his neck.

This dream would be far more productive if it wasn't for the slight dizziness still plaguing my senses…

His hands slide down my back slowly, barely moving—just an achingly gentle glide of fingertips over my spine. Heat floods me with even this simple touch. I gasp press closer to him taking in the unique scent of his skin.

_I want more, don't want him to stop…_

He's silent again, his hands stop on my lower back just above the curve of my ass.

If he would just grab my waist, lift my hips; press into me. I tremble in anticipation, disconcertingly ready and wet for someone who's scarcely been touched.

His breath tickles my ear.

"Fin, what are we doing?" His shaky whisper throws me off.

Dream Daryl has never had to ask me before; in fact, he's always started our encounters, sometimes I join mid-program…which is interesting…even for dreams.

This is very different.

The quiet, hesitant touches, his trembling hands.

But it's not a bad different…If I was actually going to be with someone after….

I push that thought away.

No, there is nothing wrong with gentle.

This is how it should go.

I'll leave reckless and wild for another fantasy.

I press closer to him, trail my lips across his skin…feel his breathing change. His pulse skyrockets under my tongue. His grip is unsteady; hands shake as they circle my waist just above my hips.

I bring my hands up ever so gently trail my fingers up his arms feeling him flex and tense each muscle under the feather light touch as I trace over them. I find his face in the dark.

He flinches back from my touch stomach muscles tightening against mine with the movement. He stops, lets out a ragged breath.

I wait listening to his breathing. Feel him lean into me again, his fingers close over mine, bring them to his jaw in the dark again. His fingers slide down my hands, to circle my wrists. Keeping tabs on my hands in the dark. I touch him again, encouraged; let my fingers slip from his jaw up to his temple.

His hands slide down my arms to my waist. Goose bumps from the cold have broken out across my skin making me shiver and lean into his warmth as my hands slide back through the loose strands of hair, just long enough to curl around his face, to lie against his unshaven jawline.

I'm not the only one that could use a haircut.

"Fin…" His voice is barely audible.

I sigh, lean further into him press my mouth to the side of his neck, feel him shake under my hands.

"Touch me. It's okay." He seems to need permission.

His breathing quickens again, he doesn't move for almost a full minute. I wait; wonder if I'm about to wake up, tortured without relief again, be forced to lie next to him in the dark, wracked by frustration and will myself back to sleep…when just his thumbs slide over my skin.

I sigh, lean into his touch.

Air hisses from him between tightly clenched teeth. I take his hands in the dark; feel him tense under my touch when I bring them up to frame my face. I turn my cheek into one of his palms; press a soft kiss to the flesh just below his thumb.

"Please…touch me."

Hands seize me, pull me close till my head is against his neck again, he wraps his arms around my back holding me so close I can feel each ragged breath he takes against my skin.

"Why are you so afraid?" The moment I whisper it, I know it's true.

For some reason touching me scares the shit out of him.

I'm so tired of everyone being afraid of me; he doesn't seem to fear anything…but the brush of my fingertips has him trembling.

_I don't want him to be afraid…Can't stand it._

I tilt my face, let my mouth travel over the hollow in his throat, nibble at his Adam's Apple. The sound he utters is pure approval of my action despite the shake of his hands.

I raise my head press one soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, bring my fingers up to trail over his jawline feel his uneven breath against my cheek. I tilt my head again, press another feather light kiss to the other corner of his mouth; draw back giving him time to process, react.

His lips part in a rush of air against mine as he leans into me, his fingers move up my back, pulling me closer to him. I moan against his mouth. His lips slide over mine, so soft I barely feel them, they might have been a puff of air.

Except for the sound he makes, It tears through me, makes me tremble.

He raises his hands to frame my face, mirroring mine, holding me still in the dark, thumbs tracing over my cheeks ever so careful, like I'm made of delicate glass bound to shatter in his hands.

I let my eyes slip shut lean into his warm palms, feel him again; just barely there, the softest touch when he pulls back. Only this time I follow him, his hands move with me; not stopping my movement.

I don't touch him for long, the ghost of a kiss, my lips pressing to the corner of his mouth again, than his lower lip.

I gasp in surprise when he leans forward following my retreat, his lips finding mine again in the dark, sliding over mine with a more even, firm pressure. I let my fingers trail down to his shoulders, down his arms, slide them back to rest over the muscles covering his ribs, feeling them rise and fall with each nervous breath.

He hasn't retreated from my touch; I take that as encouraging and move my lips over his, run my tongue over that distracting bottom lip.

His fingers tighten in my hair as I press my lips against his again. I wait for him to withdraw and when he doesn't I bring one hand up to tangle in his hair; tug at his scalp just enough that he shifts against me. Lets my mouth slant over his, tongue invading his mouth.

He freezes for a moment, and I'm positive he's going to shove me away, reject me and retreat into the darkness. But his arm slide around my waist, his lips move against mine, fingers cup the back of my neck.

The kiss changes, angles shift and I'm no longer in control. I gasp into his mouth, sparks of pleasure working their way down my spine with each breath against my lips, every caress of mouth against hungry mouth.

I let my hips rock against his lap promisingly. Grind my center against his length, feel him jump under the sensation, whimper against my mouth. He deepens our embrace, into a tangle of limbs, and soft sounds, mouth sliding over mine, rough, captivating; then soft and gentle.

It's too much, not enough, he's stealing air from my lungs in one second; breathing back into me just when I start a lazy spin in the next. Hunger pours through me, triggers and sparks every nerve. I quiver and jump under his roaming hands, arch and practically purr into his mouth with each bolder and bolder caress.

It would be damn embarrassing if it wasn't so exhilarating—if when I pulled back to catch my breath he didn't follow me, pressing soft breathless kisses to my mouth, nipping at my lower lip…

I'm nothing but nerves and heat, I want; need him…I wiggle and gasp against his neck when his cock briefly makes contact with my center. Pleasure sears up my spine making me tremble, anticipation drips from me like honey.

I need to feel my heat press around his. Need to envelope every inch of him, wrap myself around him, writhe against him until he can't remember how to speak, how to even breathe.

He groans into my mouth, the sound becomes a growl when my hand wraps around him tracing his contours in the dark. I feeling his heaviness twitch and throb against my palm making my insides ache with desire to be filled.

His lips move to my ear teeth slide over my skin. His hands slide down my sides, seize my hand and pull me away from my trophy. I rock my hips backward instead. Press my entrance to him, feel him hiss against my neck, teeth slide over my skin to keep from crying out.

His hips bucking forward in blind instinct seeking contact…Even as several long deliciously calloused fingers lock over my hips, digging into my skin to stop me from moving to answer his action.

His head rests against my neck, breathing far too fast against my skin to be so immobile.

It tickles, sends shivers down to my pebbled nipples pressed against his bare chest. Little sparks of anticipation race down my spine, send a flood of heat and liquid fire to pool where his erection was just pressed into me.

I lean forward, press closer to his chest, his grip tightens on my hips but he doesn't move beyond that. My lips find his neck, press there; feel his breath hitch against my skin when I slide my teeth over his skin, swirl my tongue over him to sooth the sting.

"Daryl," He's shaking again, "please…." I let my mouth trail to his ear, trace my tongue over its edge, his grip becomes painful.

"Please, touch me…"

"I can't," his voice breaks "we can't do this…" He's whispering into the curve of my neck, voice rough. His breath is hot against my skin while his lips press to my collar slowly dragging up over my skin, sliding teeth and lips against my ear. Pausing there to breathe in the scent of my hair; his actions contradicting his denial.

I still, wait for further argument, or rebuttal.

When his lips seal over my earlobe instead I brush my fingers up his sides, use the leverage of my fingers in his hair to lift his head; press my lips to his. I feel his mouth slide over mine instantaneously willing, and eager for control. I let my tongue tangle with his, fingers curled in the dark hair at the base of his neck, tilt his head back so I can move onto my knees whilst still straddling his lap. His grip on my hips tightens once more. His lips jerked back from mine in surprise when the tip of his length brushes against my waiting heat from my new position.

"Fuck you doing girl?" His voice is tight, barely audible, exhaled on a ragged breath.

"This isn't a dream," His fingers frame my face, smooth my hair back, cradle the back of my head. "you….you can't want this."

I lean away from him stung by his words.

"Why not? What's so wrong with me?"

His breath leaves him in a rush, fingers soften on my hips.

"Nothin, your fucking perfect, I don't deserve that." He sounds broken, like a lost child, the image is such a far cry from the capable, self-assured man I've seen every day…

I bring my hands up to frame his face again, tighten my grip on his hair just enough to hold him in place when he starts to pull away.

"That's not what I see," he shakes his head, ready to argue.

So I kiss him again.

Shut him up with my lips moving over his, tongue exploring his mouth, sparring with his for dominance. His fingers tighten on my hips while I shift, pull him back to me. He lets out a curse, jerking back, breaking the kiss when I slide over him…so wet and ready he's halfway home before he seizes me, halts the exquisite pressure and near pain as I press onto him.

He hisses my name head falling back, but I'm too distracted to care; every sense and nerve possessed by the wicked burn deep inside me. The throbbing fire of muscles stretched wide, the promise of mind blowing pleasure that can only come from one thing. Sparks dance behind my eyes I roll my hips against him, despite the bite of his fingers against my skin.

He buries his face against my neck, whispers my name, tremors sweeping up his spine. I press back onto him, he lets me, his fingers never leaving my hips, anchoring him to me in the darkness like a lifeline. His breath rushing from him in near panicked flutters against my skin.

"You can still stop, you don't have to do this…" it's a whisper against my neck, he holds himself so still-barely breathing.

"Daryl. I want you to touch me."

He whimpers against my skin torn with indecision.

So I make the choice.

I press down, driving him all the way inside me. My own fingers digging into the skin at his shoulders with a startled gasp of surprise; my pleasure teetering on the brink of pain at the impulsive invasion. Heat pricks behind my eyes, I quickly close them, needing to hide, if only for a moment…

Daryl's bucks beneath me in reflex when my muscles flutter around him adjusting to his intrusion; he must feel me tremble though, and halts breath coming in harsh barely contained pants that bloom heat across my face.

"Fuck Fin! Have you lost your damn mind?" But his fingers curl around my neck, thumb slides over my cheek.

"Did I hurt you?" His voice shakes.

"no…" my voice is barely a whisper.

_Technically I hurt myself…_

I need to move, distract him before he picks apart my quiet response, holds it against himself when it was my doing… I draw myself up, feel his fingers tighten on my hip, hand cup the back of my neck as I rise off him slowly, feeling my way through new sensations.

My insides ache as he leaves me with agonizing slowness, afraid I'll hurt myself again, give myself away—That he'll make me stop if I cry out. I slide back down against him in the same slow rhythm, feeling the sting as I stretch around him slower this time. I repeat the rhythm several more times feeling his breath come faster with each journey, his muscles coiling tighter and tighter like an over strung bow string ready to snap.

Slowly the burn is replaced by tingles of pleasure that dance behind my eyelids each time I drag his skin across mine, burst in tiny sparks along my spine when I shift myself over him on the last downward thrust, rolling my hips in startled pleasure at the sensation dragging a growl that sounded like my full name from his lips.

The sound sends pleasure through me right to my toes; I instantly want to hear it again.

I draw myself up faster this time feel his reaction with every nerve in my body when I drive myself down over him with the same tempo, rolling my hips in a soft circle, grinding him inside me.

"Holy…fuck." He shakes, hands sliding over my skin.

I agree.

I let out a shaky breath that sounds a bit like a laugh. Repeating the action over and over till I'm trembling from head to toe, locked in his arms, gasping for air against the crook of his neck.

Sweat is beaded at the base of my spine, pleasure flooding out every thought, clouding everything out but the drive to feel him moving inside me; buried deep. His fingers lock around my hips, digging into my skin with deliciously possessive weight.

His pelvis thrusts up against me, grinding against my center with each twist of his hips sending heat roaring up my spine. Fire burns through my epicenter, tremors sweep through me. I cry out. Gasp his name against his shoulder as wave after wave of throbbing ecstasy overwhelms me; pouring through my core, clinching my muscles around his next thrust. My release dragging a groan from his lips as his head tips back pumping in a rough broken rhythm, spilling more heat into me.

I can't think, can barely breathe, helpless to do anything but buck against his continued thrusts with a deft roll of my hips repeating the delicious friction that sent me careening over the edge.

I collapse in on myself, spent, muscles quivering with little aftershocks. I tremble against him, head against his shoulder, cradled in his arms; trying to get enough air into my lungs to fuel my racing heart, the sound of it deafening in my ears.

His hand cups the back of my neck, his breathing no better than mine. I shiver with each tremor that rocks his body, can feel them—where he's still buried deep inside me.

I wait several minutes for him to speak, increasingly worried by his silence.

"Daryl, are you okay?" My voice shakes.

His arms tighten around me, drag me down as he collapses back in a tangle of limbs, bringing me down to lay sprawled across his chest. After a few breaths he rolls us just enough so I slide from his body to his side, head pillowed on his chest. I wait while he seems to collect his thoughts.

"Now I understand why Maggie and Glenn were always in the damn guard tower."

I laugh, bury my face against warm skin that smells like him, and sex; it's a fascinating combination.

"Fin…." He stops. I tense ready to pull away from him. "I pulled you out of the river, you nearly drowned…"

I frown in the dark, memory hazy, still a bit dizzy when I move my head. Why bring that up now of all things?

"Why didn't you tell me about Caleb?"

My throat closes over my next exhale.

_Caleb. _

It all comes back to me in a burst of heart pounding terror.

_Caleb in the woods. _

_The urge to run, his wink…_

_Caleb trying to shoot Daryl, oh God… _

_Hands on my shoulders, cold swirling…bitter cold…_

I'm breathing far too fast.

I shove backwards from his embrace. Jump awkwardly backwards, land sprawled on my bare ass on loose cold dirt.

I scramble backwards from him shaking, searching the darkness in panic. The freezing cold air wraps around me, stealing my breath…reminding me of the water…

He doesn't move towards me. Sits perfectly still in the dark. I can just barely make out his outline in the moonlight filtering in through the gaps in the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry…" I bury my face in my hands.

"Hell you apologizing for? I'm the one that fucked up…shit," he raises a hand to the back of his neck barely visible in the dark. "I shouldn't have brought that up." He drops his hand. "Fin, get over here."

He moves toward me, wraps his hand around my wrist tugs me forward.

"I didn't jump in a damn river to let you freeze to death in the middle of the night."

I let him pull me back into the sleeping bag. I lay down next to him again. I'm surprised to feel him drape one arm over my waist again tucking me into his chest.

I let out a shaky breath, tremble when I feel his mouth press to my shoulder.

"Why didn't you warn me they might be out there? I need to know shit like that, before it happens. Damn near got us both killed."

I didn't want to bring it up, anything that risks exposing me, threatens my chance of staying with them..._with him…_

"I was hoping they were long dead by now."

It's true. I've been sending groups of Dead towards their farm for weeks trying to drive them out, destroy them.

"Caleb knew you."

I don't want to talk about it…

But I know there's no way around it now.

"I ran into his family several months ago. They're the worst kind of people."

I pause; take a slow calming breath trying not to think about that day.

"The Peacocks took their survival notes from the Dead; they slaughter and eat the other people they come across..." I shiver.

"Did Caleb," His fingers tighten involuntarily on my skin. "Did they hurt you before?"

"I got away." Dwelling on the past won't change it.

"That's what matters." I'm alive. "Daryl, I don't exactly remember what happened after I fell in the river," It's all a peculiar blur I seem to remember Daryl carrying me, and stripping off my shirt…

"Caleb's dead." His voice is harsh, laced with venom. "I bashed his head in."

_One less Peacock, that's good._

I slide my hand over his; squeeze his fingers briefly in silent thanks.

"He deserved to die." I hope he doesn't feel guilt for killing him; though based on his tone I can guess that's not a problem.

"How many people are we talking about on this farm?" His arm tightens around me again, pulls me further back against his chest. I'm careful not to shift my weight around too much this time.

"The Mom, her two brothers-Caleb has three brothers, and I've seen at least three others consistently on the property."

"That's a lot to sneak or fight past without losing people on our end."

"They usually offer people a place on their farm in exchange for work. If Glenn and the others are there it's entirely possible they'll be walking around the property with no idea what's actually going on. Gary was out with Caleb looking for other survivors." I take a deep breath.

"They won't make their move until they're sure they have everyone they can…Especially if they think there are more women out there."

He's quiet for a long time.

"Fin, earlier…" he pauses.

My face flushes in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry,"

His arm tightens around me. "Hell you sorry for woman?" Breath tickles my ear, "that was fucking amazing." He takes a deep breath voice quiet. "You can't go to that farm."

"We'll figure it out tomorrow." I'm too tired to argue.

* * *

**Notes:** So I did my best to keep Daryl as in Character as possible, he's a rough guy to write. :) Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Daryl Dixon is not mine, which is a tragedy pure and simple,

I'd give him his own channel to strut around all day, The 24/7/365 Daryl Dixon Channel.

It be like MTV back when they actually played music! (Wow I'm old, huh.)

**Notes:** Big thanks to all the readers, and especially the review writers!

Thanks guys and gals! You make my heart go pitter-pat like a Daryl Dixon action scene!

xD

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"I'm going in there. It's the most logical option."

"The _Hell_ you are!" The urge to punch him in the face is so strong my hands curl into fists.

"What other choice do we have?"

_How can he be so calm? Was he even listening last night? How hard did Gary hit him? _

"Do you have some kind of brain deficiency?! You can't just walk in there!"

_What if he never comes back out?_

"Glenn and the others are there. I'm not just going to walk away and let them die!"

"Let _me_ handle this,"

"Like you handled it last night?" He growls.

I glare at him. Seriously ready to kick his ass. I spin away with a snarl, kick out hitting a tree.

I kick it again for good measure.

_Breathe, just breath. _

He doesn't say anything.

Doesn't touch me either.

I'm not sure if I want him to.

It hurts at the same time that he doesn't. _Damn it._

"Okay, Fine. We do it your way."

_This is such a mistake..._

"When you get in there watch your ass, especially the Mom. You think Caleb was bad; that apple didn't fall far from the tree."

I turn taking another deep breath, we stare at each other for a moment.

"You sure you want to just walk in there?" My voice is quieter then I intended.

Like Daniel and the lion's den.

Only these lions _are hungry_, _blood-thirsty monsters._

"I'll wait in the woods till I see someone I know, tell them I was looking for everyone off the road when no one showed up at the meeting spot."

I nod. It's not like we have many options.

My original plan hardly works with innocent people on the farm we don't want killed and eaten during an all-out Walker assault.

"How long do I give you before I start to worry?" I don't look at him, the toe of my boots suddenly very interesting as I drag them through the dirt making a divot.

"Tomorrow night? I'll need to find an opportunity to tell everyone, and hopefully run without a fight."

Over 24 hours of gut wrenching worry. Watching from the woods, hoping I see him in the morning…that he hasn't been murdered in the middle of the night…

_24 hours to get my head together. _

_Forget the feel of his mouth sliding over mine…_

_He hasn't said a word about last night. _

_Hell, he turned a brighter shade of red then my hair as soon as the sun was up and turned his back this morning so I could get dressed. _

"Right. I guess there isn't much else for _me_ to do then."

_I've been sidelined._ _He doesn't want me around. _

_It's not like I could walk right onto the farm even if he did want my help._

They'd put a bullet in both our heads before I jumped the fence.

"You don't know me; never saw me." That shouldn't be too difficult.

_If they know_…I stop that thought before it can curl around my insides burning like acid.

"Well, Off you go."

_I'm not going to watch him walk away…_

When he drops his crossbow I look up at him in confusion…watch him pull the fleece over his head. I'm about to ask him what the hell he's doing when he steps close to me, almost touching.

_I can't breathe._ His eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. I swallow.

He slides the leather bow strap off my shoulder, without a word. I don't protest or move when he lifts the leather strap of my quiver over my head, pulls it away to set on the ground by our boots.

He pulls the thick bunched material of his fleece jacket over my head. I slide my arms through the too long sleeves, not looking at his face. Find myself staring intently at the buttons on his worn flannel shirt; it's not much protection against the cold. But he can hardly walk onto the farm wearing brand new clothes.

I can't look at his face; I don't want to know what I might, or might not see there...

He rolls the sleeve of one arm to expose my hand. I stare down at our hands, no idea what to say. He squeezes my hand in his for a second, drops it.

He bends and picks my bow back up, stands so close to me I can feel the heat radiating off of him in waves. He presses it into my hand; I look at him then, can't help myself. He looks like he might say something...his lips quirk for a moment; I'd almost call it a smile.

He leans into me once more, breath tickles my ear. "Stay out of the river."

I swear his lips brush my skin…then he just walks away.

I clench the frame of my bow in a white knuckle grip; watch him leave, silently, he doesn't look back.

I can't say anything…not without choking on the words.

_Damn him._

I have work to do. Not much time. I don't need _this. _

I turn away.

Find my feet break into a run all on their own.

I keep going, run as fast as I can, run till I can't breathe…fall to the dirt gasping for air; trying to disguise the pain with the burning of my lungs… choking on a sob.

_Damn him._

* * *

_**:: walking dead ::**_

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

She's avoiding his gaze.

To be fair, He's been doing the same thing since early dawn.

_Hell do you say after a night like that? _

_Shit._ He might not be the hard-ass he pretended to be three years ago before he found his place; his family with Rick and the others..

but he's no pussy whipped bitch either.

He's still getting used to having her near him all the damn time. Especially at night when he's used to retreating off on his own, finding privacy, solitude to collect his thoughts…now she's always there.

He's realizing he likes it.

Maybe a lot.

Doesn't mean he's going to spout poetry and shit.

He gave her his damn fleece before he walked away.

He's not exactly sure why he did it looking at her standing there, it just felt right.

The idea of leaving her alone in the woods after the other day worries him shitless, but they're out of options. Glenn and the others are living on borrowed time on that damn farm.

She fuckin survived for three years before he came along, Shit. If it wasn't for him and the others she wouldn't have been out there in danger to begin with…

"Right. I guess there isn't much else for _me_ to do then."

That's right. He's taking on the danger here, keeping her safe, and away from those damn monsters anyway he can.

It's not like she could go. Caleb recognized her immediately-there's no chance she could sneak onto the farm even if he needed the help.

He has to do this alone.

"You don't know me; never saw me."

_Like that's even possible. _

He stares at her, wide green eyes flecked with grey this morning, her full lips and wild copper hair still roughly braided from yesterday, soft tendrils worked loose by his fingers the night before frame her face. He wants to see what his fingers would look like twisted through those long strands in the light of day. His gut tightens.

Desire burns through him like a wildfire, and she won't even look at him, is cursing him for trying to protect her...

"Well, Off you go."

His feet won't respond, he stands rooted to the spot despite telling them to move. He finds his fingers dropping his crossbow to the ground instead.

She looks at him then eyes curious and alert. He's going to leave her alone in the woods, the least he can do is try to keep her warm while he's gone. The fact that his scent will be all over her is an added bonus that makes something inside him roar with approval. He yanks the black fleece jacket over his head, leaving just his old shirt and button up flannel.

She watches him move. Looks like she might say something about him keeping it; but he silences any argument she might make by stepping closer to her. Till his chest is almost pressed to hers invading her space so he can feel her breath across his neck with each nervous exhale.

He stares down at her, trying to memorize the exact shade of her eyes, the pattern of freckles barely visible across her pale cheeks; trailing down the bridge of her perfect nose.

She's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen just standing there. Her hair slightly mused, staring up at him, so close he could lean forward and press his lips to that gorgeous mouth that's just been telling him off for trying to do the right thing.

He slides the leather bow strap off her shoulder, without a word. She doesn't protest, hell barely moves when his fingers brush the skin of her collar lifting the leather strap of her quiver over her head. He sets them down at their feet, straightens up to stare at her again, considers how easy it would be to keep going; would she stop him if he removed her t-shirt next? His fingers tighten on the material of his jacket.

He makes a decision, and quickly pulls the thick bunched material of his fleece over her head, further musing her hair. He slides the material down over her ribs pulling the hem down against her hips; it's large on her tiny frame covering most of her torso.

She slide her arms through the too long sleeves, not looking at him again... she's staring intently down at his flannel shirt buttons like she's wants to interrogate them.

He tries to decipher the emotion on her face, can't read her…distracts himself by rolling the sleeves over her hands so that she doesn't have to fight the sleeves to keep her hands free to work with. She's staring down at their hands now, he still can't read the expression on her face, it changes so quickly; sliding back and forth in a strange mixture of sadness, anger and resolve.

He hopes she understands. Squeezes her hand in his for a second, forces himself to let it go instead of bringing her palm to his mouth like he wants to.

He bends and picks up her bow, when he straightens he's leaning in so close to her it would only take tipping forward onto his toes to press his lips against hers...loose himself in those soft lips.

He presses her bow into her hand instead, hoping she doesn't notice his hands are shaking with the effort not to grab her, yank her against his chest and repeat last night all over again.

She looks up at him again, and his resolve nearly splinters into a million tiny pieces under that bright gaze. But he can't…people are depending on him to get them home safe; she's depending on him too… even if she's fighting it, it fills him with purpose to keep her safe.

His lips quirk for a moment at the thought.

He leans into her, he can't resist taking her scent into his lungs one more time before he walks away, he'll have to carry it with him for strength.

"Stay out of the river." He teases, it thrills him to hear the hitch in her breath when his lips brush against her neck for a split second longer then he intends.

He has to physically pull himself away from her.

Turn his back, grab his bow and remind himself to start walking before he lifts her up in his arms; pins her to that tree and devours every inch of her pale perfect skin.

Watches the sunlight play across her features, illuminating his hands as they slide across her skin…

_Keep walking Damnit. _ If he turns around now he won't be able to stop himself from running back to her.

He should have said something more to her, what if he doesn't come back?

The Hell would he say after only a few days in her company?

He's no good with words.

He needs to get his head together.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Thanks for the reviews! :)

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

It doesn't take him long to reach the farm, maybe an hour of walking.

It's nothing like Hershel's; the house looks older; definitely less grand, though it features the same two story build and styled porch it has none of the ornate woodwork that gave their previous home it's charm. This house looks tired, and forgotten; with peeling siding and a rough looking roof. It's surrounded on all sides by a few acres of cleared land, a barn and a few sheds in serious need of repair, nothing like the sprawling fields he tracked small game through to be alone.

He circles the estate; if you could even call it that, moving carefully.

Relief flooding him every time he sees someone he recognizes alive. He find's Glenn and Tyreese busy working on a fence line not forty feet from the tree line, he itches to call to them. Shoot the young man he doesn't recognize standing next to them and tell them to run; but in his circling the farm he's found the kids; all of them playing under the watchful windows of the old house.

There's no way he can reach the porch; call them back to the perceived safety of the trees without one or all of the Peacocks noticing; following them into the woods, picking them off would be only a matter of time with nothing but trees for cover, and limited ammunition.

Fin wasn't very specific in details; Hell, she barely gave him anything more on what happened on the farm beyond a general warning…

But the color drained from her face when he told her about Lizzie, Mikka and Molly…she'd immediately asked their ages voice tight.

Face carefully blank in a look he was starting to associate with skillfully contained reactions. He didn't need to wonder why she asked, could easily figure it out on his own.

A bunch of sick perverts with no morals?

It wasn't hard to figure out what the fuck they'd be interested in little girls for. The thought still burns the back of his throat, seethes deep down inside burning bright and hot. They need to get away without a fight, but he wouldn't mind personally ending the life of every sick simple minded piece of shit on the property.

The way her voice trembled when she spoke about Caleb and the others….He got the impression that these boys liked to play with their food.

She'd gotten away from them—but not before they'd hurt her.

Just like they'd do to the rest of the girls, even younger than her-little kids with no chance of defending themselves.

He needs to get in there, warn everyone he can and have them all make their move at once.

He'd say a prayer if he thought that shit worked anymore… after Sophia though he's pretty much chalked that bullshit up to wishful thinking.

JC didn't solve your damn problems, never lifted a finger to help him in his whole damn life.

If he had to write a book about his life, it be firmly located in the self-help section.

_The title would be simple: _

_Fix Your Own Shit._

"Daryl!"

Glenn sees him as he leaves the woods; which was his intention. Tyreese is with him. They seem to be working on a fence built of multiple tree limbs zig-zagged back and forth across the property lawn, like an old civil war era fence.

"You're alive, Oh my God!" The slim Asian actually hugs him for a brief moment.

Tyreese doesn't hug him, thank god.

Clasps his hand tight, grin wide. "You made it."

The man that was with them has followed them across the lawn, stands nearby looking interested, and friendly.

He looks too much like Caleb for the smile to work.

"Been tracking through the woods trying to find your dumb asses and your sitting 'round on the front porch sip'n damn lemonade? The Hell's that all about?"

He has to play the part, even if he his dying to shoot this kid in case he touched Seraphim when she was here before…

_Shit. Since when's he callin' her Seraphim?_

…_Fin is a dumbass nickname for a girl._

"Bus got stuck on the road, whole way was blocked off. Ran into Joel's brother's out scavenging the roads." Tyreese inclines his head to what must be one of Caleb's younger brothers. "Brought us back here, patched us up, offered us help."

"In exchange for fixing their fence?" He tries to keep the bite out of his voice, not sure he succeeds.

Joel smiles at him. "Can't be helped, Damn Walkers, as you guys like to call them; keep busting through it. I'm constantly out here repairing it myself; nice to have an extra set of hands."

He nods. "Hell you call them?"

"I call them Walkers now, I'm a convert." He smiles again. "You're welcome to stay as well, It's safer in numbers when the Walkers attack, we've had some trouble lately with groups of them moving through."

Daryl just stares at him, tempted to tell him to piss off.

Glenn's smile slips. "Daryl, did you see Maggie?"

Joel is listening; he can hardly tell him he sent his wife off with Michonne and little Judith.

"I saw them leave the prison; but I couldn't get to them. Her and Michonne were together when they ran. I'm sure they're fine." Glenn nods, accepts the first news he's probably heard of her in days in pensive silence; his face drawn and tight.

A few days ago Daryl'd walk away; uncomfortable with the emotion on the younger man's face. Now he feels it burn through his insides when he thinks about Fin out there in the woods alone…

"We've been going out for days searching for everyone, but Caleb-Joel's older brother, went out yesterday morning; took Gary. They never came back."

_That's 'cause the asshole was floating face down in the river._

Joel looks appropriately upset. "Maybe he's fine, but I'm worried that girl got him."

"What girl?" His voice feels tight to his ears, he clears his throat. "Sorry, any water?"

"Yeah man, one sec." Tyreese leaves them a moment, returns with a glass of freaking tea from where they were working on the fence, it's cool, the same temperature as the air, small beads of condensation dripping down the outside of the mason glass.

Since they've been drinking it, it's probably safe.

He takes a sip, swallows around the lump in his throat.

He inclines his head to Tyreese in thanks. "Now, what girl? Been out there for days; didn't see no damn girl."

Joel looks serious. "No, you wouldn't. She's out there though. My brothers have seen her; and tracked her too, but she disappeared into thin air-she's completely crazy. Lives out there with the Walkers, Caleb said he saw her walking with them, like she was one of them..."

"Sounds like a ghost story."

Isn't this kid a little old for ghost stories?

"It's not. It's why my mom doesn't want anyone going into the woods alone; that's when she gets you."

_Sure, that's it. has nothing to do with not wanting their cattle to wander too far off the property._

He spends most of the late afternoon and evening helping Glenn, Tyreese and the youngest son Joel repair the fence after briefly meeting two other men from the family; uncles to Joel men that remind him of the Governor; eyes cold and calculating. Even though they all smile at appropriate times, shake hands, offer welcome and thanks for helping with the fence. Interacting with them grates his nerves, leaves a dirty, greasy film coating his insides. He barely resists the urge to wipe his palm on his clothes after they shake hands.

By the time the brass triangle by the porch is rung near sunset he's on edge waiting for someone to slip up. Glenn and Tyreese follow Joel inside, Joel is grinning at him tells him to come on to dinner.

_Dinner. _

_Oh Jesus. _

_There's a serious flaw in his plan to hide in plain sight._

The Peacocks all sit down to family dinner with their guests at night.

He washes his hands in the bucket by the back door with Glenn.

Tyreese has already stepped inside; offering to help Mark carry wood in for the stove.

"Glenn, who didn't make it?" He's resisted asking in front of the others in case he can't temper his reaction.

Glenn frowns.

"Greg got shot, I thought he was going to be fine, but…" he shakes his head. "We lost, Alan, and Trevor. I knew Trevor was a goner, but I didn't think Alan was that bad, I feel terrible, I told his sister after I look at the wound it wasn't that bad…"

He flicks water from his fingertips in distress.

"They got shot leaving the prison?" Glenn nods, scowls at the ground.

"I keep trying to tell Betsy and Kevan not to worry; they're going to be fine, but I'm not sure anymore. I mean, I'm not Hershel. What the Hell do I know? I wish Maggie was here..."

Daryl is infinitely grateful that she isn't. At least part of his family might be safe somewhere.

"It's not your fault man, what's wrong with them?"

"Betsy caught a recherché, through the shoulder, and Kevan I think he broke his leg, it's all swelled up, they're upstairs,"

He nods.

"What happened to Greg?"

Glenn looks at him for a second, frowns. "Gunshot wound to the thigh. But it wasn't even that deep, man, barely bled at all."

"And he died after you got here?" Glen nods, "Mary, Joel's mom said he got an infection that went to his blood, kills so painfully that without the medicine there was nothing they could do."

An infection in a matter of days wasn't completely implausible, but with what he knows about this group he wouldn't be surprised if they lost Greg to the culling of the herd…

"Did you see the body?" He's whispering. Glenn stares at him.

"You boys ready to eat something?" A plump woman in a blue apron pokes her head out the back door. "I didn't cook all day for you to stand around yapping! Come on an get in the kitchen,"

"Yes, Ma'am." They slide in the back door and move to sit at the table.

Fin was right, there's several large bowls of pulled style BBQ on the table. He feels hot and nauseous, stomach rolling; he's glad he hasn't eaten since yesterday it might be the only thing keeping him from being sick. There are pigs on the Peacock's property; but not enough to supply this kind of food daily, for this many mouths…

He sits, watches them pass the bowl around, when it's offered to him he slides it past to the next person.

The mother—Mary, is watching him when he looks up.

"Something wrong with the meat dear?" Her face is blank; it reminds him of that look Fin gets just before she tells him something awful.

He sees Mark and Ken look up out of the corner of his eye.

Shakes his head, tries to look apologetic, if this doesn't work he's a dead man, but he can't bring himself to touch the food; wonders if it would be better if Fin hadn't told him at all; his insides churn.

"No ma'am. It's just; well, I'm a vegetarian. I'm sorry." He says it quietly, hoping not to draw everyone attention to his discomfort; people that know him, know that's a crock of shit.

Glenn is staring at him, spoonful of potatoes halfway to his plate; he recovers quickly though. Kid has gotten good at thinking on his feet the last few years. He laughs, it sounds easy and natural, not strained the way his face feels…

Mary shifts her attention to the animated younger man.

"It's kind of funny right? Big guy like him?"

"More for Me!" Tyreese takes the bowl from someone else's hand, Daryl watches him spoon a large helping onto his plate. He looks up at the mother, face carefully blank.

"It does look delicious, though Ma'am, you know, for meat."

He passes a quick grin to Glenn, hoping to sell his cover. Glenn shakes his head at him in bewilderment, "You're seriously weird dude."

Glen scoops BBQ onto his plate.

If they don't buy this he's a dead man.

There's no other reason a hungry man would pass up good food. He tries not to think about the smell, gag on it traveling down his throat….thinking about what it might be…who…

"I'll take those potatoes though, if you don't mind." She hands him the bowl smiling.

"Not a problem, you eat up dear; much too skinny."

Her smile does something strange to her eyes.

* * *

:: walking dead ::

* * *

He survives dinner; barely able to eat a thing, his stomach a mass of rolling knots every time someone reaches for something.

Mary offers him an apple as he leaves the kitchen. He takes it with a gruff 'thanks'.

Tries to heads outside onto the porch to eat it.

Finds Ken following him, he's about to react when Glenn calls out to him, joins them and Ken breaks off to join one of the nephews, or brothers instead.

He waits for Glen on the porch. They lean against the railing, he can tell Glenn wants to ask him what the hell dinner was about but Joel and Ben come out to join them and they end up talking about anything but.

Ben tells them it's time for bed sometime later, he wants to stand on the porch for a few more minutes staring into the woods. Part of him hoping to catch a glimpse- some hint of red gold in the shadowed tree line.

It's cold without his fleece jacket.

_...She's out there somewhere right now._

"Whatcha looking at?"

Mark, is tall, whip thin with dark eyes. He looks like an older, thinner Caleb. Daryl bites the inside of his cheek. "Just wondering if anyone else is out there."

Mark stares at him for a full minute. "Heard you was out in the woods alone, must be a good shot."

"Decent."

He wants out of this conversation, the Hell off this porch…

"We're going looking for my nephew tomorrow, Might could use a good shot. If you're interested."

"I think I'd like to help Glenn and Joel with the fence, I just came out of those woods…no offense; I'm not really sure I want to go back in."

"Joel says when you were out there, you were alone. Nobody else with you?"

"I had one of the girls with me when we left the Prison, but she's gone now."

He doesn't elaborate, it's the truth technically.

Mark nods his head. "Sorry to hear 'bout that, awful lucky you finding us here."

He looks down at his hands on the wood railing. The urge to run intensifying, if he wasn't gripping the rail he thinks his hands might shake.

"Hammers were loud as shit. Heard 'em in the woods."

"You sure you don't want to join us?"

_He doesn't think they're talking about a walk in the forest anymore…_

"No thanks,"

"Alright, well thought I'd offer. You should probably head upstairs with the others, it's not safe out here after dark."

He heads inside certain that's not safe either. Especially after Mark locks and bolts the door behind him.

* * *

:: walking dead ::

* * *

(_Fin POV)_

I never thought I'd find it hard to sleep alone.

I sigh, shift, and stare up at the roof in almost total darkness.

Listen to the Dead milling about beneath me.

My back up plan for getting Daryl and the other's out requires a _large_ distraction.

I can't think of a larger distraction than the one staggering around just below me.

I just wish they'd be quieter.

I frown.

I try not to think about what he's doing right now…if he's okay.

He made his decision, knowing what he was walking into.

I feel sick; take a few slow deep breaths.

Tomorrow morning I'll check the area around the farm for more Dead.

...I need to keep busy so I don't think about him.

At least that's the plan; not that it seems to be working...

I close my eyes, slow my breathing, I have a lot to do tomorrow.

If Daryl doesn't make it out by the next day I have to set my plan in action…

..And then hope I can keep the rest of them alive.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:**Don't make me say it again, it should be obvious by now. I don't own 'em

Thanks for the Reviews and PM's! You guys Rock! :)

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

(Daryl's POV)

* * *

The warehouse is quiet, it's midafternoon, the birds that nested in the rafters this spring are still flying back and forth around the ceiling. Their constant chatter drove him nuts at first, but he's grown used to it now.

Judith loves watching them fly; they inspired her first words happy words in a nightmare world, her ecstatic cries of "Birdy! Birdy!" whenever she sees them tugs at his heart more than he cares to acknowledge.

It's something to celebrate at least.

And at least they shut up at night…

He finds her exactly where he expected to; in her favorite spot.

She's resting on the couch, one leg thrown up over the back, book in her hands. She doesn't notice him come in, too busy pouring over the words in front of her.

He grins, checks the room, no one else is here. Perfect. He places his feet quietly on the floor, walking with quick, even steps till he's just behind her head.

"What's that?"

She shrieks, and jumps off the couch book dropped to the floor, hand over her heart.

"Jesus, Daryl!"

It amuses him that after all this time he can still sneak up on her like that.

She looks down at the dropped book, moves to grab it back but he's faster.

He snatches it off the floor, grabbing her with his free arm, pinning her to his side as she reaches for the book blushing furiously.

He glances at the muscled chest on the cover, eyebrow raised at her. "So, a little light reading?"

"_Give it_ _Back_!"

He holds it over her head opening the book to the first creased page half-way through the book. "There any pictures in here?" He cranes his head to the side staring at the page.

"Uhng! Daryl! Give it!" She twists against him her perfect ass brushing against him, his body stirs, he tightens his arm around her waist. She's trying half-heartedly to break free. Reaching out to snatch the book from his outstretched hand, small noises of frustration rising from her as he jerks the book towards the ceiling repeatedly just out of her reach...

It reminds him just how fuckin tiny and delicate she is…

He's squinting up at the saucy words printed over his head.

"I don't think that's _physically_ possible." He looks down at her, "Wanna find out?"

He drops the book, brings his hands down to circle her waist. Lifts her up, sets her on the back of the couch, she wraps her legs around his hips in an instantaneous and familiar motion.

"I dunno…I was kinda enjoying that chapter…" She turns her head to glance at the now dropped book, he kisses the exposed side of her neck.

She hums, fingers run up his abs under his shirt.

"When's Rick coming back?" Her grin is wicked, her eyes all mock seriousness.

"Does it matter after last week?"

She snorts in laughter at the thought. _Right_.

"God…poor Michonne."

He grins against her skin, doesn't want to think about Rick and Michonne though…

"So, about that chapter; to which paragraph were you referring to the implausibility of?"

He grins. Such big words for such a little sexy mouth…Leans forward to whisper in her ear, she's laughing head thrown back hands sliding down his sides.

"You read my book!" She brings one hand up to cover her face, blushing wildly.

He loves that; when he makes her flushes to match her hair.

"I wanted to know why you were spending so much time in the library… "

She stares at him with a gasp, "Oh my god, last night! That's why you..!" She's laughing even harder now, knows where he got that idea from.

It's his turn to blush.

_Busted._ _Not that she was complaining…_

Only one way to shut her up now; her lips are soft and yielding under his. His hands wind through her loose hair, pull gently at the weight in his fingers. She leans into him, arms around his back opening her mouth to let him in, arches her pelvis forward into the tent of his trousers.

Her hands are on his belt buckle, pulling it free, deft fingers popping the button loose, sliding her hand inside, cupping him, squeezing.

_Jesus._ His hands find the hem of her top; pull it up and over her head without protest, he's leaning her back, wrapping his mouth around one breast, swirling his tongue over her nipple making her moan, run her fingers through his hair encouraging his actions.

She pumps one hand up and down his length, other hand now popping the button on her own pants.

"Someone's in a hurry."

She swats his shoulder even as he grins up at her. "Well, it was an _Excellent Chapter_."

He slides his hands over her sides, down to her pants, lifts her from the couch for a moment, sets her on the floor to pull the pants down her hips.

She's only got them off one leg, already bringing her hands to his shoulders, he lifts her up, knows what she's going to do by instinct now. Loves the way she wraps herself around him, can't resist teasing her.

"I'm not a damn tree woman." He's grinning into her mouth, kissing her back, lifting her to slide against him, pressing into her heat pulling back to catch his breath when he's buried in that welcoming tight embrace that's all her.

"hmmm, I'd make some witty comeback to that but I'm a little distracted right now, so rain check?"

_She thinks she's distracted now?_

He thrusts into her watching her gasp, head tilt back, her fingers dig into his shoulders.

"How about now?" His tone is mock serious.

"Shut up and do that again."

He does, gets the same pleasing result.

"Yeah?" He's grinning.

"Yes." She rocks her hips against his voice a soft throaty demand. "Now, Daryl."

He pumps into her, setting his tempo to keep her gasping against his throat, fingers digging into his biceps. Every few thrust he slows….pulling back from her with agonizing slowness making her moan, before slamming into her again.

He leans her hips against the back of the couch, to support their weight, drops one hand to circle her clit, feels her muscles tense and flutter around him pulling him deeper. She's moaning his name, doesn't give a damn who hears them; head thrown back as the first waves of release hit her, arching her back into him with a soft sigh.

She blinks up at him mouth twisted into a smug line, voice breathless.

"That was not page 235…"

"Just getting warmed up," She bursts out laughing when he pushes them both over the back of the couch in a tangle of limbs.

"Daryl!"

His eyes snap open, he clears his throat.

Recognizes the voice.

"Hell you Want Glenn?!"

"It's breakfast man, uh" Glenn glances nervously at him. "You okay?"

_Fuckin peachy_

He's not even near her and now he's having dreams about fucking her in that stupid book room. He can still remember the way she taste, her gasp…_shit._

He scrubs a hand over his face, tries to tone down the glare he's shooting at the unsuspecting Asian.

It's not his fault he's got shit for brains timing.

"Yeah, Yeah. Giv'me a minute."

"Alright, I'll be downstairs."

He lays there for a few minutes staring up at the cracked peeling ceiling of the room he's sharing with Glenn, Tyreese, Sasha and the kids, at least he's alone now, for a few minutes at least.

He glares up at one of the old water stains, willing his problem to go away…he's not going to touch himself and think of her.

_Not here… _

_Damn girl._ It's a good thing he's not going out in the woods today, the last thing he needs is to see her face right now; he needs to get his shit together.

They need to get the hell out of here.

* * *

:: walking dead ::

* * *

They've been working most of the day, dinner is coming soon.

The thought of what might be on the table turns his stomach, coats his inside like dirty grease. He hasn't seen any hard evidence that what Fin says is true, but she had no reason to lie, and even if they're not what she thinks after the encounter with Caleb in the woods he has no doubt these people are dangerous.

They need to get out of here, but talking to Glenn or Tyreese has been damn near impossible.

The whole family is doing a great job of keeping them busy; keeping them all separate, it's so casual it comes off as pre-planned and well-coordinated.

"I'm going to grab us some water, you guys mind?" Joel's been with them most of the morning, he's a hard worker, if the circumstances were different Daryl thinks he could get used to the kid.

"You want an apple again Daryl?"

He nods, doesn't look up from the post he's working on; this he knows how to do, even if it's pointless to fix.

They'll either be out of here by tomorrow or dead.

But at least it relaxes his mind to keep his hands busy, stops him from thinking about a certain lithe redhead that keeps occupying his dreams.

Glenn moves closer to him, under the pretense of grabbing another tool.

"What the Hell is going on Daryl?" His voice is low, quick; even though they're at least briefly alone.

"We're leaving. Tonight. Rick and the others are waiting for us. This place isn't what it seems, like Woodbury."

_Scratch the surface and evil seeps out._

He glances at Glenn, knows the kid is onboard, even without an explanation. They've known each other long enough that there's no doubt in Glenn's face when he looks at him; just resolve.

"Is Maggie with Rick?" His whisper is tense.

"Should be, sent her with Michonne and Judith straight to him." He can't offer more than that.

Glenn swallows, blinks a few times, grabs the tool mocks tipping his hat to him as Joel returns, "thanks man," they'll pretend he's thanking him for sharing tools.

"No problem."

Daryl turns back to the fence, catching the apple Joel tosses at him.

"Actually, Tyreese, my Mom was wondering if you could help her move something in the kitchen,"

"Sure, 'S no problem" Tyreese drops his tool back in the bucket by Daryl's feet.

"I'll come too," Glenn glances at Daryl as he speaks.

"Oh, you know it's not actually that heavy, My mom she just likes everyone to feel needed around the house. She thinks it boosts moral." He waves Glenn off. "Heck, she'll probably ask you to move the same piece of furniture a week from now back to the original spot."

"It'll take two seconds." Glenn isn't backing down. Joel stares at him for a second then concedes.

"Alright, the more the merrier!" They walk back to the house leaving Daryl alone watching them go.

There's not much he can do other then follow them and that's even more obvious than half pint Glenn offering to help Tyreese move a tiny piece of furniture.

He scans the tree line, not sure what he's looking for exactly Walkers, the Peacock boys or some sign that Fin is out there…

His skin prickling with nervous tension. He pretends to work on the post in front of him, senses keen to every sound around him; especially from the house…he hears nothing.

Five minutes pass.

Then ten.

He can feel the sweat breaking out on his back, his fingers itch to pick up his bow by his foot. Turn back to the house, kick in the damn door…

"How longs' it take to move a damn table."

_He can't take it anymore._

_Something is wrong._

He picks up his bow, sweeps his eyes around doesn't see any of the Peacocks at all. He needs to keep his posture casual, in case it's nothing; maybe the old lady has them re-arranging the whole damn house.

Maybe she's baking cookies and shit in there. _Hell._

He approaches the house, circles the porch, the kids are missing. Silent, no sign of Lizzie, or Molly, the wooden blocks Mikka and Patrick were playing with earlier left abandoned on the wood planks.

"Ah fuck me."

_This aint gonna be pretty._

He considers jumping off the porch, vaulting the fence running into the woods. But all that does is save his own skin. He's days from Rick and Michonne; and while Fin might be just inside the tree line; she might also be somewhere else entirely.

He hasn't caught a glimpse of her all day. There's no telling how close; or far away she might be.

He moves toward the kitchen planning to grab one of the guns stored there, intent on finding anyone he can, and getting the hell out of here.

All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, his breathing quick; but under control. Now's no time to panic. He pushes open the front door as quiet as he can, the room is empty. Not a single voice to be heard in the house, twenty people on the damn property, half of 'em kids and nobody makes a peep?

_This is about to be all kinds of Bad... _

He enters the room, visually sweeps the small living room for anybody. Pauses listening for sound, He can hear something, from down the hall…

_Fin told him to stay the hell away from that kitchen. _

He moves his feet, one in front of the other, silent as possible over the worn hallway rug; trying to remember if any of the boards creaked when he walked down it last night…

He pushes the kitchen door open and finds the mom standing over the kitchen table, butcher paper and a large container labeled 'Salt' spread out before her, she looks up at him when he enters meat cleaver in one hand raised to chop….something…

She doesn't look pleased to see him.

He tries not to glance at the large hunks of unidentifiable meat she's sectioning… maybe it _really_ is pork…

"Sorry Ma'am, I was looking for Glenn?" At least his voice is steady.

She can't see his crossbow around the kitchen door; he could still back away…

Until he hears the unmistakable sound of a shot gun racking behind him in the hall. He turns his head finds both the uncles Ken and Mark standing there. Two of the boys standing behind them…

"I think we need to take a walk boy,"

"You best be getting that thing outta my face."

"A man that don't eat meat, you some kind of fag?"

"I aint no Fag!" He's advancing toward the uncle with a snarl on his face.

"That's enough!" The mom speaks up from behind him before he can do something really stupid like jump them with two gun barrels pointed at his chest.

He can't help Glenn or the kids if his guts are shot out in the front hall….

"Put him downstairs, with the others. I'm tired of playing house."

"You heard her, drop the bow real slow like, and move it," Ken twitches the gun towards the door to the cellar. "Nice and slow like, you try anything and I'll blow your head off. Looking forward to sausage with breakfast anyway."

He's out numbered, out gunned, not enough room to move, no cover…the hell is everyone else?

These are not odds he likes.

He sets his bow down, leans it against the wall casually.

"Ima want that back in good shape."

They force him down the stairs to the cellar. Or what used to be a concrete block root cellar—they've turned it into a holding cell, _right under the fucking kitchen…_

The kids are all there Molly and Patrick are crying, Lizzie is staring at the wall. Sasha is knelt down by Tyreese and Glenn both laid out unconscious or worse on the floor…

He hopes they're not dead no bow, no knife he doesn't want to stomp his friend's skulls in with his boots to protect the kids…specially not with Tyreese's lil sister watching.

They shove him through to the other side, slam the door, lock it and go back up stairs.

He has no idea what he's supposed to do now.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** This one's mine. :P

**Notes: ** Short chapter, so apologies for that. This was the most logical place to split the action. I'll be trying very hard to get Nineteen and Twenty out before the 9th, but it doesn't look like this is going to be finished before our lord and master ( the fabulous Daryl Dixon) returns for the second half of season 4.

**Thanks: ** This chapter was looked after by my Fave Beta in the whole wide world; despite the fact that she's _terrified_ of zombies. Thanks Lnz for helping me shape the moment that Seraphim became who I always intended her to be. You rock!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

_Something is wrong. _

Dread curls in the pit of my stomach. I've been watching from one of the trees most of the day. Today is the day he's supposed to make his move, get the hell out of dodge. I saw the kids earlier today when I circled the farm keeping well back in the trees.

They were all playing by the tire swing; racing each other up and down the yard from the tree to the porch railing. The little girls laughing and playing; no one has touched them yet; they're still fine.

I realize now, that I've looked up, I no longer see them by the house. I should be able to make out their outlines at least against the dry grass of the yard; even if I can't tell apart their individual features at this distance. They are disturbingly absent…I've been too busy watching him; waiting for some kind of signal…

Daryl's been working all morning, next to a broad shouldered man who could pass as a linebacker, and a slim built Asian guy. I've never seen them before and they make random bits of conversation with him as they work. They're must be part of his group from the prison.

Caleb's kid brother is with them. He does seems to be the one they always stick with gaurd duty. He's good at it: most people don't even realize their being detained and misdirected.

The way Daryl glances over his shoulder when he's got his back turned to grab something, shifts his weight to keep him in view when he moves; I know he's on alert. I hope he's already told the rest of his group what's going on; if they make a break for it soon I can cover their escape from my position above the farm. Climbing trees doesn't just come in handy for avoiding Walkers.

Joe…no…Joel? I think his name is, I never interacted with him before, heads towards the house.

My fist tightens on my bow, ready to nock an arrow, now is their chance. They need to move quickly.

The Asian quickly moves to Daryl's side, they have a quick conversation…_The hell are they waiting for?_

My eyes leave them to see Joel meeting someone on the porch…_shit._

They're not going to make it.

I can shoot now, take out Joel and also completely blow my position…or wait. Without the kids in sight they may already be locked up, I cant risk it, I cross my fingers and hope that they haven't just run out of time…

Caleb's brother is saying something to them, the big guy is tossing down his tool, walking toward the house. He stops; turns back.

There's some kind of minor disagreement happening…It's quickly defused however, Joel's posture goes back to friendly and open.

Both the linebacker and the Asian head toward the house.

_Crap. They're splitting them up._

I'm glad I made the preparations I did yesterday. Looks like I might need the back-up plan as more than a getaway distraction... sending the herd of Walkers I gathered towards the house when Rick's group snuck out; being the original plan: keep them from going after Daryl.

They haven't returned from the house yet.

How many minutes have passed?

Without my watch I can only sit and watch, guess as the seconds stretch on, minutes feel like hours with me willing them to come back across the lawn, let them have a little more time before it all goes to shit…

Daryl is getting up, looking agitated. He knows something is wrong.

He looks towards the house shoulders set, scans the tree line around the house…

Is he looking for the rest of his group? The kids? Me?

…I'll pretend a little thrill didn't jump through me at that thought.

We're about to have serious problems, it's no time to get all girly.

He picks up his bow, moves towards the house.

I should be down there with him, the second they see me all the focus will be off the others and on me…

I climb down as quickly as I safely can, unclip my harness, nock an arrow and move through the trees.

Daryl has gone inside. If I go through the front door I've got little chance of stopping more than one or two of them before they take me out: I'm one person. A solo all-out assault only works in Rambo movies.

In real life kicking in a door and going in guns blazing…_or bows_…generally gets you one thing: an express train to _dead_.

My stomach knots.

If it's all gone to Hell in there I can only hope that he's still alive. That he didn't go shooting off his mouth…

_Shit._

I close my eyes and lean against the tree. Focus on taking slow, deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart. I swallow around the lump in my throat. It's time to face the facts:

Going in there is a fucking suicide mission.

I open my eyes and stare up at the clear sky through the bare tree limbs.

Daryl might be dead; but they're not going to kill those girls.

They'll be trapped in a living hell, worse than the one outside those walls, 'til the boys get bored with them…however many days, weeks or months that takes. They'll use them up until they're nothing but hollow, broken shells of existence. Something you can't bring back from the dead.

I push away from the rough bark, wiping a hand across my cheeks.

_Fuck it._

Time to be Batman.

* * *

**Notes: **Chapter 19 is going to be loooong and contain both Daryl and Fin POV in different spots.

I am trying to get it out before Friday night but it might be Saturday before the season 3 marathon (hopefully). *happy dance* IT's almost back! Yay!

Reviews are loved and appreciated, you guys are amazing! Thanks so much for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **So not mine, Damn.

**Notes: **I decided to break this up into two/three chapters instead of one 20+ pages long. It should also help with the POV shifts.

I hope I kept Daryl as much in character as possible, he spends most of his time shutting down his emotions, until the shit really hits the fan; that's when it all comes crashing down on him. Hope I got it right!

Thanks for sticking with me! You guys rock!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

Nobody speaks. Sasha has been sitting in the corner one arm around Mikka and Molly since Tyreese and Glenn regained consciousness. Now there's nothing they can do but wait.

He _hates_ waiting

Glenn sits four feet to his right back pressed flat to the cinderblock wall, knees bent. His hands clenching and unclenching with every footstep that passes overhead.

Tyreese is pacing like a caged animal, 's got a thing against tight spaces; and it don't get much worse 'en this.

Daryl can feel him glancing at him every time he faces him, paces against the wall, checks the door again… They're waiting for him to come up with some kind of strategy; a fuckin plan. An all he can think about is _her_.

"Look, I say the next time they come down here we just rush them." He's checking the wire grating—hog panels it looks like, but it's solid: they cemented it right down into the cinderblock wall. If flexes but doesn't budge.

"They got guns, aint' coming down here without 'em."

"So what? Better one of us gets shot and the rest have a fighting chance then we just sit here and wait to die."

Glenn curses, rubs a hand over his eyes. Probably thinking about what happened to him in Woodbury, 'cept this time there's no answers to beat out of them.

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Sasha's voice is tight, her eyes dart to Molly curled in her lap. Little girls been crying since they tossed him in here.

"Better a bullet then what those assholes have planned for 'em." His head falls back against the cold wall, stares up at nothing.

"What the hell do you know about this man?" Glenn's on his feet. "What the hell is going on here? I mean if they just wanted our weapons why lock us up? Why not just kills us the second they found us on the road?"

"They found out you were part of a larger group, wanted as many people as possible."

"Yeah but what for?!" Tyreese stops pacing for a moment.

A crack goes off outside.

"Was that…?"

"Gunshot." He's on his feet already, moves to the wire panels trying to see out the small casement window. It's nothing but a grey streaked blur, filthy like everything else in this house.

More shots echo off rapid fire in the night.

"Rick?" Sasha sounds hopeful.

"Nah, Aint Rick." He doesn't even know where they are.

"Walkers?" Glenn sags against the wall again, slides down head in his hands.

"Yeah, Probably Walkers." That's a lot of gun shots.

Fin's out there all alone. He can only hope she's somewhere safe from Walkers. Since it's dark she's probably already safely tucked away high up in a tree, wondering why he's not back yet…

"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll all get eaten." Sasha looks at him needs some kind of hope not just for herself, but for the kids.

"If they all get eaten who's left to let us out of here?" Lizzie's voice is oddly calm still, girls either got stones or is bat shit crazy.

Glass shatters.

Glenn's up on his feet in an instant. "Fuck can they get in here?!"

Daryl doesn't answer. Too busy watching someone slide their foot around the window's interior wood frame; knocking glass shards loose. Two boot clad feet, then black encased legs slide through the tiny space.

"What is it?" Sasha calls, arms wrapped tight around the girls.

She shimmies forward on her back, toes finding the workbench just under the window's opening. She drops down onto its surface the cacophony of gunshots continues outside.

"That's no Walker; Hey! Get us out of here!"

He can't speak. Heart caught in his fucking throat.

She's not supposed to be here. She supposed to be safe from all this. Not sliding through a window rimmed with broken glass in the middle of a Walker horde…

He brings his hands up to rest on the rough cold cinderblock wall just under the wire. Barely registers the rough concrete digging into his palms.

Glares at her so furious he can't see straight.

She moves swiftly from under the open window to stand in front of the wire gap to their prison cell.

His arms are through the wide square gap of hog fencing to his biceps; fingers digging into her upper arms before she opens her mouth to speak.

"You out your damn mind?"

She doesn't pull away from his hiss; doesn't even flinch when his hands tighten on her arms pull her closer to the wire, almost nose to nose, shakes her.

"Someone's got to save your ass."

She is _not_ smiling at him right now.

Not right fucking now when he's having a _God Damn_ _heart attack_, and all he can hear is Walker's snarling out there, and gun shots, and shouts, and his pulse pounding in his ears…

"Get the fuck _out_ of here right _now_."

"No."

He glares at her, snarls some of Merle's favorite words. The boiling desire to punch something twisting around his ribs. He opens his fingers instantly, jerks his hands back to slam into the wall between them. She doesn't even flinch, just stands there inches from him, with those infuriating wide green eyes, not even blinking.

"My decision Daryl, not yours. Remember that." She slides her machete still in its leather cover to him through the gap. His hand closes over the leather on reflex, still staring at her. "Just in case."

_In case What?! _

_Fuck that._

"Open this _God Damn door_." So he can drag her ass the hell out of here.

He pushes back on his hands, starts to prowl back and forth, quick jerking footsteps in front of the wire gap, that both Glenn and Tyreese move rapidly to avoid.

She takes a step back from the wall dust and dirt from the filthy window and table top mark the surface of her long black sleeves. When the Hell'd she change into that outfit? Looks like a fucking cat burglar. He's scowls staring at the stretch of skin visible where the hem of her shirt bunched up crawling through the window. His hands itch to grab it, wrench it down over the inch of luminous skin glowing in the dark. He realizes she's still watching him, something must show on his face because she quirks an eyebrow at him, turns away, fixes the damn hem at least. She starts searching the walls, drawers to find something sturdy enough to damage the door holding them apart.

"Daryl who is…?"

"The girl those assholes are always looking for," He doesn't look away from her shadow moving in the dark. _Hurry up._

"No shit." He can feel Glenn's stare even without turning his head. Tyreese is oddly silent.

"Hell you looking at?" He shouldn't be snapping at Glenn, can't help himself. The machete handle weighs heavy in his hand. _The Hell she handing him her weapon for?_ _Where the fuck is her bow?_ She needs this in case those assholes come down here…

He needs to get out of this damn room. He rubs a hand over his face.

She's got a crowbar in her hands when she comes back, moves quickly to the other side of the solid steel door. He follows her, puts his hand against its surface; feels the vibrations in his palm as she works at prying the hinges loose from their mooring.

She works for several minutes, cursing a few times softly when the tool slips with a clang.

He's aware that there are almost no gun shots from outside the window now, they don't have much time before either the family comes back; or Walkers start tearing down the house. Never thought he'd be wishing for Walkers.

"Fin, you gotta hurry up."

"Working on it." Her tone is tight.

Glenn and Tyreese stand crowded against the wire window alternate looking out the broken glass into the dark and glancing at the base of the stairs to the kitchen.

They can all hear voice's now, Ken, Mark, and some of the other men calling back and forth to each other as they check the outside of the house. If anyone opens that door they'll see her standing here all alone…

"Babe, you need to hurry," The urge to kick down the fucking door; wail on it with his fists hounds him…He knows that the sound will only draw them faster…

"_Fin_…"

"I know."

The sound of someone opening the door to the house upstairs, slamming it closed echoes from the floor above their heads.

"Daryl…" Tyreese's warning comes at the same time he tells her to hide through the door.

He moves to stand beside Tyreese and Glenn at the wire. Stares at her through the square gaps, dread knotting his insides.

It's dark, and she's dressed in black; hopefully if they come down here they won't see her. She had time to hand him the weapon, why couldn't she just get the hell back out of the house? Why the fuck is she still here? If those bastards see her it will be 9 against one…

And they'll all be distracted with getting revenge on her for Caleb's death…

_Fuck._

She nods to him eyes holding his in the dark. Panic assails him, overwhelms all reason.

Sends his heart into overdrive, slamming against his ribs. He jerks his head, tries to tell her not to move; to _fucking stay there_ and _don't_ do _this_...his hands grip the wall separating them. Powerless to intervene.

The door to the kitchen opens heavy footsteps tread down the staircase.

He glares at Mark and Ken through the bars, pure hate raging through his chest, digging at his heart, clawing through his insides till his hands shake against the wall.

"Sorry you missed it, had a bit of excitement up there."

"Damn Shame." Tyreese answers for him.

The wind rattles the open frame catching Ken's attention. "Shit, I thought Robert said they didn't get within thirty feet of the house?"

Mark frowns. "They didn't. checked myself, twice."

His heart beat roars in his ears. _Don't do it._

There's still a chance they won't notice her…

He wants to scream when she stand up; creeps forward and smashes the crowbar into the back of Marks head.

Mark falls, collapses to the floor. She takes a second swing at Ken, but he dodges—she's lost the advantage of surprise.

"Eli! Bobby! Get down here!" Mark isn't moving, he groans from the ground.

She's standing close enough to smash his head…one less predator in the room.

"Don't do it girl! You only make this worse."

Eli and Bobby, Caleb's brothers are coming down the stairs they freeze when the see her, but only for a second.

Eli lets out a low whistle. "And here I thought, I'd have to track that sweet little ass for weeks to pay you back for Caleb."

"That's just because you can't track worth a shit Eli." She hiss. "You couldn't find an egg in a hen house."

Ken is chuckling, "Do believe she's got you pegged boy." He glances down at Mark on the ground, "Boys get your uncle up off the floor, that's a damn disgrace in the presence of such a fine sweet young thing."

Eli and Bobby move down the steps she backs off giving them space; staying out of arms reach. The two young men grab Mark by the arms, haul him up. Shooting leers at her. Ken grabs his brothers chin glances at his face as they drag him by. "That was one hell of a hit, going to have to pay you back for that."

"Don't you fucking touch her, you hear me?" He's slamming his hands into the wall fingers itching to wrap around Ken's throat and squeeze until his face turns blue…

"Boys send Robert down," They don't wait long.

"Fin, long time no see." Robert leans down from the doorway. "Why don't you come up here and we can have a chat," Her reply is white noise in his ears, drowned out by the rush of blood. He could be Caleb's twin they're so alike. She's taunting them back on purpose; knows exactly how to get a rise out of them…make them react instead of analyze her choice to trap herself in a concrete box with all of them.

They crowd the doorway to the stairs, Drawn like sharks to blood in the water. And he can't stop them from tearing her apart…

A crack of gunfire goes off in the basement there's a blinding muzzle flash from the stairs, several of the boys stumble back but his eyes are locked on her. His heart in his throat when she stumbles back…keeps her feet under her, hand drops to her left thigh.

They shot her.

_Bastard fucking shot her._

Rage tears up out of his throat, phrases and things he'd swear he never used before, cringed when Merle uttered them in the past pour out of him…_and there's nothing else he can do…God Damnit…_

She's yelling something over his words, he catches the tail end of it. "...I forgot! Caleb's not around for you to catch his sloppy seconds."

_Laughter almost rips from his throat, except it's not laughter…it's something else, some sound he's never made before in his whole god damn life and he has to just stand there and watch them attack her like a pack of wolves. Cheap Bastards its six against one. _

_She twists and spins and lashes out…but it's not enough… she goes down when one of them takes a cheap shot at her wounded leg; takes her down to the ground swarm over her…their hands on her body, touching her…_

Everything inside him is screaming…

"Daryl!"

He stills instantly; no one speaks for a few ragged breathes.

"It's okay,"

He doesn't know how Tyreese's hands got around his arms; pulling him back from the wall, how Glenn is there in front of him-eyes wide, hands raised to block him face ghostly white even in the dark.

_And it doesn't fucking matter because it's Not okay… _

_Never can be if he doesn't do something, say something, and stop this…_

A strangled sound tears from his throat burning all the way up, "The Fuck it…"

"It was never going to work. You know that right?"

_Please, oh God. _

_Don't do this to him, _

_not again…_

"There's no way I could take that door down, have to be someone _three times_ my size to do that."

"Let's take this upstairs where we can be more comfortable."

He can't breathe. His legs nearly give out under him. He's leaning towards her, feet pushing uselessly against the concrete floor, Tyreese holding him up as much as holding him back…stopping him from tearing his hands into a bloody mess clawing at the wall…

He jerks, twists, kicks out, curses at them…"Say goodbye to your girlfriend," Someone calls out.

He's cursing and screaming, kicking out at Glenn and taking a swing at Tyreese and slamming himself into the door between them, over and over.

And when Tyreese pins his arms to his sides, tries to stop him from doing it again smashing his shoulder into that god damn door until he blacks out: he can _hear her_.

The only sound over the roaring in his ears …the fire burning everything inside him to white hot ash…

_She's screaming._

_The sound assaults him, tears him open-claws at his ears, writhes in his chest and shreds his heart into red hot ribbons of agony and guilt consuming him whole._

_When he finally comes up for air what feels like years later she's still screaming…_

…_and it's all his fault._

* * *

:: walking dead ::

* * *

I wont leave you in the lurch for two long, proof reading next section now... :)

Reviews make me type faster! ; D


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** not mine.

**Notes: **This chapter is Definitely M rated so be warned! Violence, torture, angst and all that ahead. I tried not to be too graphic.

I purposely ended this chapter before anything too triggering I hope. But consider yourself warned if that bothers you,

Sexual assault** is** hinted at in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I circle the house splitting them off as I go.

Sending them in from all sides; I need them focused on the Dead-not the people inside.

I sprint across the open field bent at the waist. My hands feel empty without my bow, but it won't fit through the window; and I'd rather know it's safe where I left it than risk leaving it outside where one of the Peacocks might find it. _I'll need it if I pull this off…_

The windows of the old farm house glow a pale yellow in the black of night, not much more distinct then moonlight; oddly shaped. I can't imagine what they're using for light, whether it's candles or kerosene lamps, it can't provide much more to navigate by inside then a few rough outlines of furniture. It's a pretty safe bet it will be pitch black or near to it in the cellar. God knows the last time those windows have been cleaned.

I drop to the ground rolling as tightly under the overgrown shrub beside the casement window as I can…And wait, counting my heartbeats. Straining to hear anything through the glass, completely opaque with filth. It's not long before I hear them approaching, their unsteady gaits ambling towards the smell, the light of the house.

No one has noticed the commotion yet; I'm just starting to feel beads of sweat on my lower back, when I hear the first gunshot crack. Someone shouts in the darkened yard.

There's more gun shots, and yelling the Dead are whipped into a frenzy by the noise; _really_ making a ruckus now.

I roll towards the house, sit up, turn my head away and smash my boot heel through the window shattering the glass.

I can't stop, no time to worry if they heard me. It's too late to turn back, and my distraction won't last too long, especially with so many gun's going off in the dark. I smash my heel against the few fragments of glass still clinging to the old wooden frame, hope I don't cut the shit out of myself and scoot forward to slide through the window feet first.

It's awkward, and tight, but I highly doubt going in head first with an eight foot drop inside would be any better. I shift and squirm and luck out when my toe hits a solid surface while my shoulder blades are still on solid ground. I slide the sole of my boot across its width, some kind of tabletop or hutch?

I arch my back, shift forward and pray it doesn't collapse with my weight…or worse flip over and pin me. I land on a rough wooden surface with less noise then I expect…but that could also be the gun shots peppering the air outside.

Someone's a shit for brains shot; there's not _that_ many freaking Walkers out there, _Jesus._

A man's voice calls out the second I drop into the room. "That's no fucking Walker."

The linebacker is standing on the other side of a rough hue concrete wall, chest and face visible through the wide thick wire panels. I don't take in much more about him then his

existence though:

_He's alive_

I can't speak. Bend and leap off the rough wooden surface landing on the concrete floor, heart pounding in my ears. _He's alive._ Relief floods through me instant and sweet.

I let my feet carry me across the short distance to the grating. His hands smash between the wire squares, fingers digging into my shirt sleeves. I have to bring one hand up onto the wall, stumble forward when he jerks me off balance gasping his name.

Dark shadows obscure most of his face, his eyes catch what light there is from the broken window, spinning their depths into a swirling tangle of midnight blue in the low light.

"You out your damn mind?"

He's angry, voice barely more than a growl.

The hell did he expect me to do? Hide and save myself knowing what would happen here? Run back to Rick and the others empty handed, face Maggie and Carl and tell I left their friends to die?

His hands tighten on my arms; obviously waiting on an answer, he's so close I can feel his breath on my face. The memory of his lips pressed to my skin; the smart ass remark just before he walked away from me yesterday afternoon rises to the surface.

"Someone's got to save your ass." I quirk an eyebrow at him, give him my sweetest smile. His grip is so tight my fingers are starting to tingle…

"Get the fuck out of here right now."

He's behind fucking bars, in a God Damn cage. And he still can't accept my help? I narrow my eyes, hold his stare for several heartbeats. "No." Proud my voice doesn't shake.

He glares back at me, snarls a few choice words. If there wasn't a cement wall between us I might be kicking him in the shins.

He releases me suddenly like I've burned him. The wire grating protests as his hands jerk back through the square openings not quite clearing them. He slams his palms flat down on the lip of wall between us, eyes wild, breathing harsh…loudly echoing in the dark space around us.

I don't step back, refuse to. One hand still rested on the wall, I tell myself it's not to steady myself under that heated gaze though…

"My decision Daryl, not yours. Remember _that_." I lift my arm, slide my machete still in its leather cover to him hilt first through one of the gaps. His hand closes over the leather on reflex.

"Just in case."

Because being here has confirmed what I already knew.

There's _very_ little chance I'll get this door open before they find me here.

My best hope is to do enough damage to the frame that between the big guy and Daryl they can force it the rest of the way open; fight their way out.

"Open this _God Damn door_." He shoves back on his hands, starts to pace back and forth like a wild animal in front of the wire gap, still glaring at me breath coming in sharp snarls. His eyes drift from my face to the skin I can feel exposed to the cold air, I can almost feel his eyes like fingers over my skin.

I step back, quirk an eyebrow at him. His gaze darkens. I turn my back take a deep breath, pull the hem down over my waist.

I quickly move in the dark, fingers running carefully in the low light over the tools scattered over the walls and work surface…try not to think about what some of these tools might have been used for in the past.

"Daryl who is…" Someone speaks behind me in the dark.

"The girl those assholes are always looking for?" He's stopped pacing. Is staring at me through the wire again when I glance over my shoulder catch his gaze, my stomach flutters.

"No shit." The other two men are staring at him.

He turns on them, "Hell _you_ looking _at_?" Rubs a hand over his face.

My hands settle on a familiar shape a crowbar, probably my best choice. I quickly move to the door frame, slide the thin curved edge under the hinge and yank with all my weight, repeat the action several times. First on the top hinge, then the bottom.

They start to give, pulling away from the frame in short creaking groans of protest, and I feel a flood of relief; maybe, just maybe I can actually pull this off… actually get them out and we can all make a run for it.

"Fin, you gotta hurry up." Daryl is just on the other side of the door.

I jam the crowbar under the hinge again and yank; it shifts the door starts to lean just slightly.

"Working on it."

_Hurry, hurry, hurry…_

Voices drift to me through the open window Ken, maybe Mark? Several voices from the family calling back and forth to each other as they check the outside of the house.

If anyone opens that basement door they'll see me immediately…

"Babe, you need to hurry," Daryl's words catch me completely off guard. I freeze, heart pounding, staring at the door frame.

I can hear footsteps in the house, there's not enough time…

"Fin…" I barely hear him over my pulse.

"I know."

_I'm out of time._

More footsteps upstairs, heading down the hall overhead.

_I tried. God I tried…That's got to count for something._

"Hide _now_."

It's not going to help; the second they see the window they'll know. My heart pounds in my ears. I try to keep my breathing even, measured; slip back into the darkness between the work bench and the wall. Enough space that I can jump out when I need to-crowbar in my hands.

He's staring at me through the square wire; his shoulders rise and fall with each ragged breath face drawn and pale.

_He knows._ _Or has just started to work it out…_

I nod to him in the dark certain he can see the movement when his head jerks harshly hands come up to grip the wall separating us.

This was the _only_ way to get them a weapon, to buy them time to work together…The Walkers aren't the distraction_: I am_.

The door to the kitchen opens heavy footsteps tread down the staircase.

He stops looking at me, pure seething rage rolling off him the tight set of his shoulders visible even in the dark as he stares at Mark and Ken through the bars.

"Sorry you missed it, had a bit of excitement up there."

"Damn Shame."

The wind rattles the open frame catching Ken's attention. "Shit, I thought Robert said they didn't get within thirty feet of the house?"

Mark frowns. "They didn't. checked myself, twice."

My heart beat is so loud they have to hear it…

I tighten my grip on the warm metal in my fist, palms sweaty.

I stand up as silently as I can, move with slow gliding steps eyes locked on the back of Marks bald head_, I own him one._

I slam the crowbar down, Mark falls forward to his hands, I swing at Ken who's jumped away from me.

"Eli! Bobby! Get down here!" Mark isn't moving, but he groans from the ground. I must twitch with the thought of smashing his skull in because Ken barks a sharp. "Don't do it girl! You'll only make this worse."

Eli and Bobby: Caleb's brothers are coming down the stairs they freeze when the see me, but only for a second.

Eli lets out a low whistle. "And here I thought, I'd have to track that sweet little ass for weeks to pay you back for Caleb."

"That's just because you can't track worth a shit Eli." I hiss. "You couldn't find an egg in a hen house." Caleb was the brains between the two of them, and that wasn't saying much. Never underestimate mean and stupid though, I learned that last time.

Ken is chuckling, "Do believe she's got you pegged boy." He glances down at Mark on the ground, "Boys get your uncle up off the floor, that's a damn disgrace in the presence of such a fine sweet young thing."

Eli and Bobby move down the steps I back up two steps, let them grab Mark by the arms, haul him up. Ken grabs his chin, glances at his face as they drag him upstairs "That was one hell of a hit, going to have to pay you back for that."

"Don't you fucking touch her, you hear me?"

_Daryl._

I blink. Remind myself that I'm _not_ going to be sick in front of him, no matter how much my insides twist under Ken's gaze. I can do this.

"Boys send Robert down,"

They finish dragging Mark up the stairs. There are now several dark outlines crowding the top of the staircase.

"Fin, long time no see." Robert leans down from the doorway. "Why don't you come up here and we can have a chat,"

"Why don't you come down here and make me, bitch." My voice is steadier then I expect.

"The fuck you say to me?!" I could almost laugh, he's far too easy to rile up.

"You heard me, nothing wrong with your ears, limp dick."

An explosion goes off in the basement.

There's a flash of bright light and fire sears through my thigh. I cry out before I can stop myself stumble backwards, but manage to stay on my feet. I'm nearly deaf from the sound, ears ringing. One hand clamped over the small hole now seeping blood into the fabric of my pants.

Maybe I'll get lucky; piss him off enough that he'll make this quick. Can't be too quick, they need enough time to get loose.

Daryl is screaming obscenities behind me. I try to block him out, the pain helps.

I have to shout to be heard over him. "You're such a little _Bitch_. Have to shoot a girl half your size so you can take her? Oh, I forgot! Caleb's not around for you to catch his sloppy seconds."

_Shit that works!_

I have to leap backwards when he all but dives down the stairs at me. I swing the crowbar as I move clock him in the throat spin and swing my foot up with as much momentum as I can between his legs where he's bent over hacking and gasping for air.

Two down…Someone else jumps at me, hands trying to grab me... I twist, move my feet but there's not enough space…too many opponents…someone grabs me from behind. Arms wrap around my waist. I slam the heel of my boot into their foot, smash my head back into their nose and jam my elbow into their stomach. Twist when their grip loosens and slam the crowbar into somebody else's face.

I have a split second to savor the moment before someone's foot flies out in the dark, connects with the bullet wound on my left leg, Agony sears up my nerves my knee gives way and I crash down, lashing out even as I go; losing my only weapon when they slam me to the ground flat on my back. My hand opens in reflex when my skull smashes down to the concrete.

"Fuckin hold her! Don't let her up, Shit." Ken's got a split lip it sounds like; I don't remember that, but I'll take it.

"Get _Off_ her!" He's screaming, drawing far too much attention to himself for this to work.

"Daryl!" He stops instantly; no one speaks for a few ragged breathes. "It's okay,"

He makes a strangled sound. "The Fuck it…"

"It was never going to work," I cut him off, press on. "You know that right?"

_Please, know that this was my choice…understand that_…

I jerk my shoulder off the concrete, twist when a hand clamps over the wound in my leg, finger digging at me; someone slams me back down. Anger and fear claw at my throat threaten to choke me, I gasp for air. "There's no way I could take that door down, I'd have to be someone _three times_ my size to do that."

_Get it Daryl; come on…put it together. Please…_

"Let's take this upstairs where we can be more comfortable." Hands haul me up, taking more of my weight then I'd like to admit.

The darkness spins for a few moments…too many blows to the head: it's been a busy week.

"Say goodbye to your girlfriend," Someone calls out. I'm not sure who, the light at the top of the stairs is a little bit fuzzy…no make that _everything_ is a bit fuzzy.

I can still hear him cursing and screaming when they shut the door behind us dragging me into the kitchen.

_Ah, Fuck no. _

_Bravado only lasts for so long when the very real prospect of pain looms. _

"I'm gonna kill that cunt!" Sounds like somebody got their voice back. Robert is sitting on a kitchen chair bent double, red in the face. Sniveling over one little kick. At least he won't be joining in on some of tonight's activities.

I can only hope I'm dead or unconscious at the very least before he's feeling amorous again.

"Well you shot her, shit for brains." They lift me up, slam me back onto the fucking table holding me down, their tight grips giving me way too much credit in my current state. Ken comes into view is looking down at my leg, grabs a bottle and pours it over my thigh.

I jerk, scream.

_Holy Fuck. Shit. Hell… _

"God Damnit!"

"Momma, come dig this bullet out of her so we can get her upstairs."

No that's okay;

We don't have to do that…

Hands are pulling my pants down, but I can't focus on that because someone is pouring more of what can only be described as searing liquid fire onto my thigh.

I twist and bite my lip, try not to cry out, make it worse for him downstairs…the ceiling blurs.

I blink gasping to put air in my lungs…try to remember why I'm here, what I'm doing…

No one speaks for a moment and I swear I can still hear him screaming downstairs even over the rushing sound in my ears. Then I can't hear anything because someone is jabbing at me, slicing down through my leg; and that's worse, _oh God. _

_So Much Worse…_

I try to kick, and twist, and scream and scream for ages…

and finally it stops.

I lay there wheezing, leg in agonizing pain…but it's less pain that it was a second ago and that's a Fucking Godsend…

Someone is lifting my leg, bending my knee, holding it there, my boot flat against the table's surface when it's obvious I have no muscle control right now. Shaking from head to toe, sweat dripping down my temples. It might be tears….I let them go. Room still spinning around me, trying to catch my breath. Prepare myself for what's coming next.

Ken leans over me. "Did you kill Caleb?"

"No…" my voice is a rough cry. He blinks in and out of focus, but he's starting to get clearer…

"That's bullshit!"

"Shut up Kyle." Ken stares down at me. "You see Caleb? Out there?"

I nod my chin once. "He still alive?"

_Nope._ But I'm having trouble trying to remember what happened to Caleb…it's hazy…

Oh, that's right Daryl killed him.

Definitely shouldn't tell them that…

"Found him, already turned," I gasp.

"That's bullshit!"

"Shut up Kyle! Take her upstairs. I shouldn't have to say it, but Don't kill her!"

They drag me off the table jostling my leg….it hurts like hell…Start to climb the stairs with me, dragging me up. Pain sears my thigh radiating all the way to my toes each time they take a step. I think I might pass out after all, that sounds good.

We reach the top of the stairs and they start down the hallway I'm not even picking my feet up anymore, they drag behind me. I get a unfocused look at a dark room with a bed.

Fuck, didn't pass out soon enough…

"Hey Dipshit, you're supposed to buy me dinner first."

"I'm gonna fucking enjoy this," someone hisses in my ear.

"Do me a favor and let me know when you get started," My voice slurs. They dump me backwards onto a firm surface.

"Last time I couldn't tell."

I don't want to remember what happens after that.

* * *

**Notes:** I'll try to get the next bit out on Saturday. Thanks guys!


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: ** Don't own anything from the Walking Dead, except my OC she's available to AMC…for a price ;)

**Notes: **Short chapter, Sorry Daryl is not cooperating. just snarling and threatening to smash things. I'm hoping to get inspired by tonight's episode…instead of getting writer's block!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_(Daryl POV)_

* * *

"_Tyreese pins his arms to his sides; tries to stop him. Keep him from smashing his shoulder into the God Damn door until he blacks out:_

_He can hear her…_

_The only sound over the roaring in his ears._

_It burns him till he's nothing but white hot ash…_

_She's screaming._

_It assaults him, tears him open-claws at his ears, _

_writhes in his chest and shreds his heart into _

_red hot ribbons of agony and guilt consuming him whole._

_He's drowning in it._

_When he finally comes up for air what feels like years later _

_she's still screaming…_

…_it's all his fault."_

"Daryl Man, Keep it together! Come on!" He lashes out with his boot, tries to twists himself loose but Tyreese keeps his grip, just barely.

"She's up there! They're fucking killing her."

"And we're going to get up there; but you need to get your damn head on straight!"

"It's straight, fuckin g'off me!"

Tyreese releases him. They glare at each other in the dark for a tense moment, breathing fast. Tyreese jerks his head to the door. "On three?"

They move to the door, lean their shoulders against it, can barely fit all three of their bodies against it at once. It takes them a few tries to get the timing right. Every time he slams his shoulder into the solid surface pain radiates down his whole arm, after a minute his fingers are nearly numb with it.

Tyreese is gritting his teeth with each blow.

"Again!"

He ignores the pain. Blocks out the sound of Mikka sobbing in the corner and Sasha's shushing. One thought looping over and over in his mind,ripping through him with each blow.

_She's up there._

_They're doing God only knows what to her and it's his fault._

Glenn has to switch shoulders twice. Alternating sides with his smaller frame but he's not complaining, doesn't stop.

"Come on, Don't be a pussy let's go!"

They slam the door until it lurches sideways, twisting. The bolts of the top hinge yanked out of their concrete mortar. Several long three inch screws clatter to the floor.

Glenn picks them up, hands one of them to Sasha who's standing behind them now, one arm around Mikka, Molly close to her side.

Daryl wastes no time, vaults over the door; stops to help Sasha over then steps to the bottom of the stairs.

She stopped screaming just before the door gave way…he listens at the door while Glenn and Sasha help the kids and Tyreese squeeze through the gap in the door frame.

It's quiet upstairs.

He might be too late…has to get the kids out of here, that's why she came back.

He moves to stand by Sasha. "Think you can fit out that window?" She eyes it, she's taller than Fin, but not bigger. "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, we get Sasha outside with the kids, get into the woods, move as far away from the house as you can."

"What are you going to do?"

"Aint no way me an Tyreese fit out that cookie cutter hole, maybe Glenn's scrawny ass…"

"Dude."

He ignores Glenn "…we go upstairs get our weapons, and get the fuck outta here."

"Hold up, you can't send them alone out there with no weapons. They just shot the yard up, probably attracted every Walker for Miles." Tyreese cuts in.

"Better out there, then in here with them."

"He's right. We'd have better luck with sticks and rocks against Walkers then guys with guns." Sasha moves toward the window. Tyreese helps her climb out, lifts the kids up one at a time helping them crawl on their bellies out the small hole.

"Go!"

They turn back to the stairs the machete in Daryl's hand, Tyreese has quickly located himself a sledge hammer from the tool wall.

"Seriously dude? That thing weighs like 20 pounds." Glenn eyes him for a second, shakes his head and grabs a hammer pockets the three inch screw he picked up earlier.

"All the better for knocking their heads off."

"Amen brother."

"Daryl," He stops, looks back at Glenn. "What are you really going to do when you get up there?"

He stares at him, mouth pursed. "How 'bout you let me worry 'bout that."

He moves to the stairs, climbs the short distance to the doorway. Grabs the handle, turns it as slowly as he can. Leans on it trying to be as quiet as possible, finds it's not locked; pops open with barely a sound. The hallway is empty.

He opens the door enough to look down the hall towards the kitchen, listens to the voices talking on the other side. His crossbow is still leaning against the fucking wall.

At least something's gone right today.

Glenn and Tyreese follow him down the hall moving as quiet as possible; the bow feels good in his hands, comforting and familiar. He listens at the kitchen door for a moment, signals to Glenn and Tyreese and busts through the door bow already aimed towards the first voice.

One of the brothers goes down with an arrow before he's even turned his head to the open doorway. Daryl just keeps walking not giving the other's time to react; he's already turning striding forward to slam the machete down into another mans surprised face.

Tyreese and Glenn are in the room now, makeshift weapons raised at the Mother. She doesn't move to defend herself, just stands frozen with her back to the counter eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open cut off mid-sentence by his attack. Nobody moves for a few tense breaths, she continues to stare one of the young men on the floor.

Daryl doesn't look down, can hear him sputtering for air next to his boots. He's too busy taking in all the blood covering one side of the wooden table. Raises his eyes, turns his head to see the mother has a bloody rag in one hand, blood staining her fingers, palms…her wrist…her apron front.

_She couldn't chop up her body that quickly, she's got to be in here somewhere still…_

"The Hell is she?" She doesn't answer, still staring at the body by his feet.

"I asked you a fucking question lady! Where the _Hell Is She_?!"

"Upstairs."

He raises his arm pulls the trigger. She crumples to the wooden floor before he's turned around. He's not waiting for Tyreese and Glenn to react, doesn't care if they follow him, he hears them grab weapons, but he's already moving down the hall again.

He's halfway up the stairs to the second floor, bow raised and ready when they catch up with him shotgun and rifle in hand. They move down the darkened hallway, stopping to listen for voices at each door. Glenn nods to him and opens the door to Kevan and Betsy's room…it's empty; the beds stripped bare.

"Shit. Where are they?" Glenn is looking around the room.

"You don't want to know." He turns back around.

They quickly check the room they used for sleeping during their brief stay, it's empty as well, stripped bare just like the other. _They're already_ _setting up for another group to come through...fall into their jaws._

He's not going to let that happen again, it ends now.

He picks up speed when he hears a sound from the door on the left, jerks the handle; shoves it open…

He slams into Eli with a roar.

They crash to the ground on the other side of the bed. His fist coming down; sending blood gushing from the other man's nose before Glenn and Tyreese are even through the doorway behind him guns up. He raises his whole body slams into him again cursing with every breath.

Eli's bucks and twists trying to dislodge him, making feeble attempts to protect his face. They're both screaming he realizes…tries to remember why that's a bad thing, can't bring himself to care when Eli bucks and he has to put one hand to the carpet to keep from falling.

Except it's not carpet, he realizes. It's her clothing: crumpled, and torn, and bloody... lying in a pile under his hand…right next to...

He jerks up face contorted with rage. "I'm gonna Fucking Kill You!"

"Get off him!" Kyle is screaming at him from the bed.

_He's still up there with her… _

_One of those damn things might be his. _His mind snarls at him.

His gaze flies to Kyle searching for evidence, realizes that Kyle's got a knife he didn't have before.

"You Hear me? Get off him or I'll slit her throat!"

_Like fucking Hell he will._ Hate rolls through him in thick black waves at the sight.

_He's going to kill every one of them._ He stands, leaves Eli bleeding heavily to jerk away from him, grab his pants off the end of the bed…_That's not going to save him, nothing will. _

Kyle's seated behind her on the bed, using her as a human shield.

_Just like the fucking coward that he is._

His position neutralizing Tyreese and Glenn's weapons pointed at his chest...they can't shoot him without hitting her…_but he can, he could…_the desire to do it makes his fingers twitch …his insides roar with approval.

_He can end this right now…_ _and he might do it; except that his bow is strangely absent from his hands. And then there's the knife to consider..._

Daryl stares at the knife blade to her throat, already smeared with blood…

He tries not to look at the rest of her. Fights a losing battle to keep his eyes firmly on her face…not sure he can handle seeing what else they've done to her, not with Glenn and Tyreese standing here…with every brutality on clear display it would be far too easy to slip into a mindless rage and get them all killed.

He was already planning to kill every last one of them if he could…this changes nothing except maybe how slowly he now plans to do it- how much pain he wants them to feel before he ends it…

She's hauntingly quiet. Staring past him, mouth set in a grim line that's split on one side. Blood is smeared down her chin, and across her cheek. Her right eye looks like it's starting to swell shut already. He tries not to lose himself at the razor thin slices on her arms and legs, the blood clotted bandage over the gunshot he saw her take in the basement. His eyes jerk back to Eli's bloody face. His fists clenched ready to strike him again; pound him into oblivion before starting in on Kyle, then finding Robert…and Mark…and Ken…

"Get the fuck _off _her." His voice comes out somehow calm, quiet.

Her eyes flick to his for just a moment, what he sees slices through his guts like a red hot knife.

Tyreese and Glenn both have long guns leveled at the bed, though they can hardly shoot with Fin in the way.

His crossbow catches his eye lying by Glenn's shoes…he doesn't remember dropping it. Glenn stoops to grabs it quickly, shifts across the room holding it out to him with one arm, keeping his gun trained on the bed. His fingers wrap around it, he checks the lock without having to look at it, the action second nature, instinct: as natural as breathing.

"There something wrong with your ears?" He needs to do something to keep from flying at Eli and Kyle ripping both their heads off…He turns back to level the bow at Eli. "Tell your skank ass cousin to get his hands off her, Don't make this worse than it already is."

Fin moves lightening quick without warning, drawing his attention.

She yanks the hand holding Kyle's knife against her skin down with both of hers, twisting his grip with a hand on his thumb, jerking her neck away in the same instant and then ramming the heel of her hand into his nose.

He sputters in shock and pain, grip loose enough now for her to jerk forward again. This time she twist to slam her elbow into his face; keeps twisting with the motion. Brings her leg up.

They left her boots on somehow, the dark leather looks harsh against her pale skin he notes absently. When she lashes out the force slams Kyle's head back into the wall above the headboard blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

Kyle's knife is now in her hand as she kicks out again tries to use the movement to leap off the bed. But whatever hell they've put her through her legs won't take her weight. She crumples forward not quite getting her feet underneath her. Staggers two steps trying to stop her forward momentum.

He has to move just as quick: jerking his bow with one hand to the side so he doesn't hit her with it. He steps forward dropping almost to his knees so she crashes into his chest instead of the floor. He brings his arm around her back, just like he did before when she needed help; pulling her tight against him.

He backs up a few feet crossbow pointed at Eli again partially dragging her. She hasn't said anything, hasn't raised her head from his chest. He risks a glance down at the top of her head…at the bite marks on her bare shoulders. His breath leaves him in a sharp hiss.

"Fin, Can you stand for a second?" He wonders if maybe she's passed out against him. From pain or shock, or both… He wouldn't blame her if she did; it would probably be a mercy if she could pass out. But she's tough as nails, takes a steadying breath. Nods silently, the tiniest jerk against his skin barely visible. Then pulls away from him. He keeps his hand on her till he's sure she's not going to collapse. Throws a quick "watch them" over his shoulder at Tyreese and sets his bow down again.

He hastily opens the buttons on his flannel shirt and pulls it off sliding it over her shoulders. Her own clothing still lays ruined on the floor...

He will not imagine them cutting through it; pulling it off of her while she fights against them, completely out numbered. Tries to block the image from his mind, like the one of her clothing piled next to used latex, it's too fucking much for him to deal with right now...

She slips her hands into the sleeves, holds the knife awkwardly in her hand as she starts on the buttons with surprisingly steady fingers. She's not looking at him again, stares at some fixed point over his shoulder.

Glenn and Tyreese are motioning to him that they need to go, but he knows they can't leave them alive. They'll just follow them, hunt them down.

_Just like the Governor. You can't poke a bear without getting your hand bitten. _

_There will be no mercy tonight, can't be, not when they're dealing with monsters. _

_They've repeated this mistake too many times before, always paying the price… It's time to accept the lesson._

Now that she's got protection from roaming eyes and the cold he picks up his bow again. Moves in one smooth controlled motion, doesn't take his eyes off her as he raises it; turns his gaze at the last second watches the realization cross his face just before he pulls the trigger. He takes Eli down with one shot through the eye. He falls before he can even utter a sound.

_Neither of these Bastards will ever touching anyone again._

Kyle lurches towards the end of the bed in panic. Before Daryl can shoot him Fin is twisting, arm raised in a throwing arc that hits home.

He hears Glenn swear across the room. Watches as Kyle flails on his knees, clawing at his throat, blood dripping down the knife handle, dripping onto the flower patterned quilt. Wet gurgling rasps escape him around the knife now embedded in his neck. Non-words croak from his mouth.

His gaze is on her, watching every muscles tense in his body; ready to jump forward between them, even as she marches towards the bed. Still not looking completely sound on her own feet. His long sleeved flannel shirt is almost a dress on her. Too long sleeves shoved up over her forearms, just the skin of her pale legs exposed.

She doesn't hesitate, or flinch when Kyle's hands reach for her in blind terror. Instead she uses his hands to yank him towards her, grabs the back of his shirt in both hands. She uses the leverages of her grip to pull him towards the edge of the bed like a limp ragdoll. His panic quickly makes any resistance to the motion-despite her diminutive size utterly impossible. She grabs the back of his head next, while he watches; takes in the blank absent look on her face unsure if he should stop her or stand back and let her end this on her own…_He has no doubt that she's capable of doing just that._

"_How many people have you killed?"_

"_Eight." The words ring in his mind:_

_"but they were all monsters…"_

She shoves down on Kyle's skull while twisting and lifting her knee; smashes his face with the motion. The movement simultaneously connects with the handle still protruding from his throat, sending a gush of blood running down her leg and onto her boot...the floor...

Fin grabs the handle, jerks it out and shoves him away to flounder against the mattress in his death throws.

_Nine._

She just stands there for a second watching Kyle thrash. Face entirely too calm for the marks on her skin, to calm to be dealing with the aftermath of this room…

There's a loud shotgun rack from the hallway outside the door, then a second one.

Glenn spins to face the sound.

"How about you boys drop it?"

"Not a chance in Hell."

_This is not good._


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: ** I wish! Ha

**Notes:** Another short chapter, might be the shortest one yet: but the next section is all Daryl's POV and it get's pretty wacky jumping back and forth mid-chapter with different view points. Hoping to get next bit up by late tonight, but here's this little bit for now at least! Big Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys are great!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

_This is not good._

_Everything hurts._

_It's such an understatement I almost burst with laughter._

_I can only imagine how much that would hurt though…_

_I've heard that phrase so many times in my life. _

_Everything hurts._

_Hell I've used it myself more times than I can remember. _

_I know I used it every summer, abundantly. Remember distinctly uttering it collapsed on the rug or sofa scratched and bruised from head to toe after camping in the mountains with Joe and Eric, always so desperate to prove to them I could be 'one of the boys' even half their size. _

_And after running that stupid 10k with Elaina our Junior year at USC…without training for it, and drinking the night before. I'd figured, I was in good shape: how hard could it be? Until I was puking my guts up on the side of the road, every muscle I didn't know I had shaking in agony. _

_I didn't run again 'til after everything went wrong…_

_This time, I've got it figured out:_

_**Everything**_

_Hurts_

I didn't hurt like this the last time.

There was the obvious pain; I expected that, burned for days with it. But not this bone deep ache that steals my breath. Every joint feels stuffed with sandpaper, grinding setting my teeth on edge with pain as I move. My legs shake underneath me, sheer willpower keeping me upright, off the floor.

My entire body wants nothing more than to collapse to the ground, curl into the back of the closet, hide. The strong urge to do just that beats at me. I want to cover my face, bury my head in my hands, or clap them over my ears maybe; I can block out the sound of my own screams echoing off the walls. I still hear them in my mind…A large part of me wants to just collapse, scream and sob until I puke.

_I don't do any of those things though. I Can't. It's never been an option. _

_I won't let myself consider it one now. _

_I watch Kyle's face. The blood seeping up through his fingers still clamped in desperation around his ruined throat. It won't save him. Nothing will save him now._

_I should feel something about that, anything. _

_I come up empty._

_I can feel his eyes on me… can feel __**all**__ their eyes on me. _

_I know what he's waiting for:_

_Tears _

_Screaming _

_Some kind of breakdown _

_I'm as surprised as he is._

It's in here _somewhere,_ not far beneath the surface; but I know if I let it out I might never get the lid closed on it again…certainly not tonight at least. So I just stand here watching Kyle die. _Miles to go before I sleep…_

Daryl stands there watching me, doesn't speak. Just waits; every muscle tense balanced on his toes ready to spring forward and grab me again at a moment's notice.

I never thought I'd see him alive again; much less find him trying to rescue me. I just watched him beat his knuckles raw against Eli's face screaming like a mad man, nearly lost it when his arm wrapped around me and I could hear his heartbeat against my own ragged breathing…but I can't bring myself to look him in the eye.

_I'm not that strong._

A shotgun racks in the hallway just beyond the door. The other two men, Glenn and Tyreese; move away from the door, everyone's attention is on the door except mine.

My eyes are busy memorizing the pattern of blood on the bedspread; wondering how much of it is mine. I'm thinking more than is probably healthy.

People are shouting at each other in the room, orders to drop weapons thrown back and forth in terse voices. But it's all white noise. I did it again. I can feel it under the tension in the air…heavy like ozone, the prickle under my skin.

The hairs on my neck standing on end, just like last time; only back then I didn't know what I was doing…didn't even know it was possible…_what am I?_

"They're coming."

"What?" He's staring at me again. I don't answer. Walk across the room instead to stare out the window into the darkness outside. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the moonlight, before I can make them out.

The field beside the house is crawling, rolling…an endless sea of dead.

_I understand now._

_The only monster left in the room is __**me.**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer****: **Not mine, AMC's!

**Notes: **The Poem from this chapter (and the single line from the last one) is by Robert Frost and is one of my favorite titled "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". I think of Daryl as a very intelligent character that would have probably hidden a lot of his awkwardness and insecurities growing up behind books if it wasn't for the heavy influence of his brother Merle. The last paragraph of the poem has always been something I thought was perfect for his character. I hope I weaved it in well enough here.

Thanks to all the Readers and Reviewers!

You guys rock!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Daryl Come on we have to go!" Glenn's shout barely reaches his ears over the repeated crack of gunfire. Muzzle flashes and hot metal casings fill the air. More glass shatters on his left. Someone is yanking on his arm, trying to drag him away.

He draws back, slams Robert into the wall again, slams his fist into the man's face feels his knuckles slip coated with blood.

"Daryl!"

"You fucking killed her!"

He can still see her jerk against Robert's hold eyes wide, the glass shatter, her rolling across the porch shingles, falling away into darkness; into a sea of waiting hungry hands. No weapon, no hope of survival…

She didn't even scream.

"Daryl!" A fist connects with his jaw, jerks his attention to the right ready to attack…_Glenn._

Glenn is staring at him, eyes wide with fear the sound of snarls reach his ears again, the whole room lurches back to life with a crack of gunfire from the Peacocks' still on the porch firing down into the sea of hands. Hungry…reaching…their previous victim already gone and forgotten.

_Fucking, gone _

_Just like that._

Tyreese is waving to him wildly from the doorway screaming something about Sasha…

_Fuck. Sasha and the kids._

His hands leave Robert's throat lets him slide to the ground. Somehow he lets his feet carry him out into the hall, down the stairs. Tyreese runs to the kitchen meets them in the hall, hands him another shotgun. He takes them to the back door…all the commotion on the front porch roof keeping the way out to the woods from here blessedly empty.

_He should go back up there kill them all…_

Glass shatters in the front of the house the snarls grow louder. They're pulling the house apart…

_She's out there somewhere under the porch…_

"Daryl!"

"I got it!" He draws air into his burning lungs. Follows Tyreese off the back porch leaping the railing and shrubs into the yard. Arrows at the ready, spare shotgun slung over one shoulder.

Sasha would have moved in this direction; he takes the lead finds a few tracks in the soft ground barely visible by moonlight around the house near the basement window they escaped through.

…one set of tracks going the opposite direction.

_Seraphim's footprints…_

His throat burns.

He ignores it, swallows around the rock somehow lodged in his windpipe.

Words from a poem he still remembers from high school absently drift through his mind as they move through the darkness. Hyper vigilant for movement; sound anything precluding danger.

He remembers Merle finding him in his room; the book in his lap, his hands clenched on the filthy material of his bedspread. Reading the lines over and over again.

Merle'd told him to stop being a pussy, nothing good ever came from a book and dragged him out to the car off to some random house or another to sit staring at the wall while he got drunk and high and started fights….the words near the end still circling in his head.

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep._

He wasn't good with words, never had any luck with them. They jammed up in his throat, stuck in his chest until he just stood there like an idiot, blushing with nothing to say. The line was so true, it haunted him. He could never word it that way; make it come out right…but here it was on a page in a book, perfect.

_But I have promises to keep. _

He'd wondered back then what kind of promises could draw him out of the woods; his only sanctuary from his Father. Hell, from Merle even. Always calling him a bitch, and a pussy, shoving him when he got shit faced drunk and loaded. Always pushing him at girls he had no interesting in sitting next to let alone taking his pants off with.

He didn't understand what the words meant back then with no one to answer to…no one to give half a shit. Who could he possibly owe enough to not only _make_ promises to them, but to _keep_ them?

Now at the end of all things they finally make sense.

The desire to run back into that house fling every last Peacock off the roof to the same death; the half-mad need to blast his way through the swarming mass of bodies till he finds her, useless as that would be. At least they'd have something to bury. He's faced with the prospect of another empty grave to visit. His hands shake when he thinks of bringing flowers to an empty cross behind the warehouse.

If not for promises to the people around him now the ache to run deep into the woods lose himself in the darkness and solitude just like he did as a young man would be too much…

But he doesn't, can't; he has to just keep moving his feet one in front of the other.

There are miles to go before he can sleep.

**::Walking Dead::**

Early light, not quite dawn yet finds them still alive. They have no idea what direction the herd they saw the night before might move in after leaving the house. No choice but to press on as long as they can; try to make it to the road. To a car hopefully with enough gas and battery charge left to start.

He's only vaguely aware of the protesting of his whole right side with each movement. By now deep bruises will have bloomed across his shoulder, down his bicep and hip from smashing repeatedly into the solid steel door the night before. His raw knuckles, cracked and caked with blood still ache with stiffness from wrapping around the gun stock of his crossbow for hours in the cold air.

He's numb, doesn't feel the cold against his skin, curling his breath in the air before him. Can only focus on moving forward, the other's following him, his bow limp, bouncing against his side, his eyes never rising from the leaves under his boots. If a walker happened on them now he's not even sure he'd notice till it took a chunk out of his arm. _Maybe not even then…_

Glenn follows closely behind him, one of the shotguns from the kitchen in his hands, let someone else look out for them, he couldn't give a shit.

Can't seem to keep the damn trees in focus…

fucking cold making his eyes water...

_Fucking Pussy._

He needs to get his shit together, stop being a Bitch.

They've lost people before, they moved on.

Except this time, it doesn't feel like that.

The hollow ache is somehow worse than seeing Merle's dead glassy eyes; watching his own god damn flesh and blood bury his hands in dead flesh and tear into it with his fingers and teeth.

A Thousand times worse than the desperation he felt with Merle lunging at him…slamming his knife into his brother's skull over and over and over howling with pain, and rage at him for leaving him _one last fucking time._ Going where he could never follow, never come back…

It's worse than the ache of thinking about Carol out there somewhere, alone.

Carol. The first person he can honestly say became someone he leaned on; even a little bit.

A friend when the word; the entire concept sent him reeling back in alarm, alien and dangerous. Someone who wanted his company sought it out-the opposite of every relationship he'd ever had in his life, he'd been on edge for months unsure how to deal with it.

All life had ever taught him was that people walked away. When things got tough. When you don't know what to say; Hell, sometimes just because why the fuck not?

The last one had been Merle's fucking specialty.

Nobody ever gave a shit about him, why should someone with nothing to gain start now? But he'd wanted to be needed, after losing Merle the first time in Atlanta, seeing the way the others could talk to each other interact. Even if sometimes those interactions made no sense and drove him half-mad; he wanted to belong in some small way so badly it tore through him, terrified him.

He'd started seeking her out, little by little; just to make himself feel that tiny spark of life before he'd bolt away again too overwhelmed to deal with it for long.

He'd thought, when he'd given it consideration; that it was because she was broken too, and they could make each other feel less broken together maybe…he doesn't know.

Never got the chance to ask her…not that he would even if she were standing here.

He'd just started to let himself need her, expect her to be there when it happened again.

Somehow over time she'd gotten stronger, maybe she wasn't as broken as he was after all…and suddenly she didn't need him to save her anymore…

Somehow she stopped jumping at her own shadow, moved past her fears and he stood buried in them unable to fathom how she'd made the journey. When she reached for him he backed away, couldn't return the affection she offered him, desperate not to lose the one solid thing he had, knowing she could be ripped out of his life at any moment.

And he couldn't take that, the added pain of letting her in anymore then he already dared; and then he was right not to because she did leave him.

But not the way he feared… It would never have occurred to him in a million years that she would just drive off. Just like all the others.

Fucking leave him without so much as a goodbye.

He did the same to her when his brother returned, but that was different he tells himself… she had to know he didn't have the strength; the courage to say out loud what he felt; just the thought makes him tremble, shake like a child.

and now he's really done it.

He'd let her in…didn't mean to; still doesn't understand how it happened. How to fix it now her absence is destroying him from the inside out. Somehow she crept in when he wasn't looking; when his back was turned. She looked so Confident and strong bowing to no one, but through the cracks little by little he could see a vulnerable girl, hurt over and over again by the world they now survived, she intrigued him when he should have known better.

He still has no idea how she managed to imprint herself on his psyche, wind her way down deep down under his skin; haunting him even in his dreams: giving him a drunken half-mad kind of courage to reach for her when he found her next to him.

The stupidity to think he could hold her in his hands, let her touch him inside and out and not lose her…

Not have it all shatter like razor thin glass in his hands, slicing him to the bone, deeper than that…

Cutting through him layer after layer like a hot knife right down the wounded little boy he tries so hard not to be.

The damn trees are blurring again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: ** Fin is Mine, as is her storyline; everyone else is borrowed without permission, I promise to be nice to them though! :)

**Notes: ** We are having a bit of a snow-maggedon here, so I'll probably be stuck inside (hopefully writing) for the next few days. I'll try to get the next chapter out before the weekend. Big thanks again to all the readers, and reviewers! You guys make it worth it! Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

My back slams down onto hard packed earth. The heads and shoulders I landed on first; hands that grabbed me as I fell are probably the only reason I didn't just break something.

I try to cough but there doesn't seem to be any air left in my lungs to expel leaving me to simply twitch and jerk sporadically for a few moments wondering if maybe I can pass out now. I don't; I just lay there in a sea of legs trying to get air into my lungs. Not having much success for what seems like hours.

I roll onto my side, stuttering and gasping, curl up and cover my head for a moment hoping not to get stepped on by the shuffling mass around me. This is about as smart as laying down on the floor of a mosh pit. I need to get up before I get trampled…

I push up onto my knees, finally get in an almost normal breath and immediately regret it…

I don't think there are words _invented_ yet to describe the assault taking place on my senses.

Have you ever driven past a road kill skunk with your windows down on a hot summer day? Yes?

Okay, how about found something unidentifiable in the very back of your fridge, made the curious mistake of opening it even though you can't remember how long it's been back there; can clearly see it's gone rotten with mold…

Combine those two things together and then multiply _that _by a factor of 1,000 and you're still not even _close_ to grasping the unique bouquet of my current companions.

If people had figured out how to bottle this years ago it would probably have repelled stray cats and cockroaches… Hell it could have been used to end wars. _It's That Bad._

I gag, retch, dry heaving till my eyes tear and my nose runs uncontrollably.

If I stay here I might never recover. I start to crawl, hand over hand away from the house retching every few feet while trying to take only the smallest gasping breaths when my lungs start to burn too much to resist.

My neck is starting to throb with each move of my right arm, I pause to raise my fingers find a circle of wet, raw skin that makes me jerk my hand away instantly with a sharp hiss.

_Ouch. Okay, Another mild complication._

Seems falling into a sea of walkers instead of plummeting 12 feet straight down might not be as handy as I originally thought. The Dead tend to act a little like piranhas when excited: they bite first and question whether they can actually eat what they've caught hold of after they sink their teeth in. Like overzealous land sharks. The one that bit me is probably flopping around on the ground right now somewhere behind me…

I don't even remember teeth tearing into me after the fall, but it happened pretty fast… Whoever bit me must have let go the second it realized I wasn't a wise choice for a snack.

Why couldn't it have been my leg? It's still covered with Kyle's blood… And I could hide that before anyone might see it…

At least it didn't happen right in front of someone this time…

I halt rocking back suddenly to kneel on the lawn. The frozen blades of grass soaking the rim of Daryl's shirt sleeves with dew. The realization slams into me.

It doesn't matter _where_ I got bit:

They _all_ saw me go off the roof into the horde…

I bury my head in my hands, let it wash over me.

There's no way _anyone_ could survive that fall, especially with only a knife in their hand- a knife that I dropped rolling over the rough shingle roof…right along-side the first few layers of skin from my right hip and thigh…

I can't turn back up, pretend nothing happened.

Who would believe it?

_So I'm dead._

_That's it. _

_No more group, no more Carl or Rick, Beth or…or…._

_I can't even think it._

I take a deep breath. _It's better this way._

I was an idiot to think it could ever end with anything but a disaster; should be grateful that it ended as well as it did.

A bitter laugh tears out of me.

It's a serious testament to just how fucked up my past relationships have been in three years that _THIS_ is a _good_ parting:

I'm naked, except for boots and a flannel shirt. I ache from head to toe, my insides throb and burn like I've been jabbed repeatedly with hot coals. I've been shot, cut, punched, bitten and thrown off a roof.

I lay my head against my knees for a second and breathe slowly in and out try to ignore the snarling at my back, the furious report of gunshots not 200 feet away and the bitter cold curling around every inch of skin.

I pull myself up, take a swipe at my watering eyes, cough and get to my feet. Slip quickly into the woods. Start circling the house through the trees till movement in the back field catches my eye. I immediately recognizes the posture even in the dark; the crossbow held aloft; Daryl…and the other two making their way across the cleared field, almost to the trees.

_They lived._

It's the best outcome I guess I could really hope for.

My only original hope when I made the decision to go in there.

The fact that I'm alive too should be a victory lap…

But it doesn't feel like one.

Maybe when I don't hurt anymore…it will feel different.

I keep circling left past the old shed to where I left my pack, my bow. The cold air numbs my legs, I keep my hands tucked under my arms to protect my fingers-keep them useful as long as possible in the cold.

I pull off my boots gently once I'm standing over my bag again, try to ignore the way my muscles scream at me. Start to pull on my normal clothes, familiar olive pants, a dark tank top…my fingers pause over my usual long sleeves, my eyes on the flannel pattern I just removed.

I stuff my own shirt back into my bag pull the flannel back on instead, rolling the sleeves quickly past my elbows. Try not to analyze my own action.

_It's not like anyone else will see it. _

I finish with my boots and sliding my harness over my hips, trapping the long hem of his shirt against my waist; it's almost a dress in length on my shorter frame. I no longer have a machete to use, but it will keep the shirt bottom pinned down if anyone tries to grab it; and I'm used to its comforting weight against my hips.

My neck burns when the leather strap of my quiver brushes against it slipping over my head. But it could be much worse, whoever bit me at least opened their jaws again before yanking backwards; otherwise I'd have a much bigger hole to deal with, and a far more serious problem than being homeless again.

It would be really hard to finish kicking the Peacock's collective asses now that the others should be long gone if I was dizzy from blood loss. No way to deal with the horde that's writhing across the lawn in the dark.

I turn back towards the house, gun shots still pop off through the darkness. They have to know they can't stop them that way; there isn't enough ammunition in the whole house for a group that size…The sheer number moving around the front of the house is unimaginable.

The last time I saw a group that large was probably in Atlanta years ago. They must be from the main highway—which is a symptom of a larger possible problem; if this really is my fault, and I don't see how it could be anything but; anyone leaving the house from the other direction may encounter the same kind of force moving in from the opposite side.

I will need to hurry here so I can follow them, make sure they make it to the road safely without running into any extra's I didn't intend to have showing up to the party.

I sigh, beyond tired and suddenly very cold.

I ignore the ache and burn of muscles as I move toward the house again; circle back around to face the front of the house and the commotion happening there. I leave the safety of the tree line; move forward to the fence zigzagging the perimeter of the property.

It's taller than I am, but the spaces between the thick limbs it's constructed from are wide enough to get my toes into, I pull and climb up onto the top, my shoulders and insides screaming in protest.

It takes me a second or two to place my feet at the right angle to give me the stability to stand upright. I need to get a clear view of the porch roof; the windows beyond and the Peacocks still firing recklessly into the crowd.

I pull two arrows from over my shoulder, clasp one between my teeth, nock the second. I take several slow deep breaths; pick my target in the dark pull back and fire. I nock the second arrow immediately and let it follow the first then quickly drop to the other side of the fence rolling to lessen the impact.

It's still jars my teeth and makes me hiss with pain, but I'm down before the answering fire of bullets echo through the trees in my direction. They might not know exactly where that came from; but they'll be no doubt it was me. Luckily nothing seems to actually be hitting the wooden fence line I'm behind. They must think I'm farther back in the trees.

Which is ridiculous: nobody could make that shot from the forest.

I move left again, crouching to sprint between a gap in the fence a good 50 feet wide, the wood here is exploded inward, more splintered fire tinder then wooden rail. It's both impressive and terrible what that many of them can do in one place.

My leg gives out shaking in agony when I reach the other side of the gap slamming me to the ground. I drop my hand to my thigh, it comes away wet, my fingers black in the moonlight… must be bleeding again. Probably popped the stitches loose when I jumped; or maybe when I fell the first time.

It's no use worrying about it now; If I don't deal with the rest of the Peacocks and stop this herd of walkers the others won't make it through the night. I concentrate on my breathing, grab two more arrows. Turn to peer through the gap in the fencing.

Mark is trying to get Billy back through the window and off the porch, one of my arrows sticking out of his thigh like an odd extra limb. Robert, it looks like, is trying to pull Billy inside by one arm while he screams, flailing uselessly; driving the crowd below them into a frenzy.

The wooden porch railing on the deck snaps with a loud crack, glass shatters. They'll be in the house soon. I move across the yard, elbow over my nose and mouth; breathing through the thick soft flannel to try to block the overwhelming odor of fetid death and rot from knocking me on my ass. Surprised that I can smell his scent in the thick cotton still, even with the other scents surrounding me…I close my eyes for a moment, take it in deeper; try to memorize it before it's gone.

I start to move again, eyes lifted to the porch roof. If I could just lure them to the edge I'd have a perfect shot…

I pull an arrow out, nock it and take loose aim at the space above the porch. It's been a long time since I've tried this…and never with a group so large, I'm not sure I have the strength…

Slowly one by one the Dead around me quiet, go still; it spreads out from me in an ever widening circle. I still don't know how. It's like staring at one of those stupid 3D artworks, the second you concentrate too hard; start to focus it slips away…

"The Hell is going on?!"

"No! Don't!" I fire taking Ken down before his brother can jerk him back from the edge, his grip on his brother's arm takes them both down and I instantly lose control; the crowd swallows them whole. Their screams bounce off the walls of the house amplified; echoing into the darkness with the renewed snarls of the dead; the shouts from the rooftop drowned out, lost in the night.

I duck quickly, move as fast as I can to the front porch, before whoever is left on the roof can spot me, I'd be an easy shot at this range. Several more gunshots split the night behind me, I hear the wood of the porch beams creak loudly…too many bodies pressed against rotten wood.

I have to shove several of them aside so I can crawl through one of the smashed windows to the front room, slicing one palm on the glass. I nock another arrow, notice my bloody fingerprints on the shaft as I straighten up, how much blood have I lost tonight? I need to stop soon or I'll be in serious trouble. I move towards the bottom of the stairs pause when the crack of wood and groan of too much weight take the porch roof down, I think I hear more screaming over the sound.

I wait at the bottom of the stairs; whoever is left up there will surely be headed this way now, trying to make their escape from the house, out the back like Daryl and the others.

I take him down before he's reached the first step; the second his head is in view…he falls back and I'm moving up to the second floor landing, grabbing the rifle from his hand, checking for ammunition…then staring down the empty hallway…I wait but no one else leaves the room.

I move as quietly as I can, curse the single board that creaks under my toe. Lay my back flat to the wall, breathing fast, Spin to check the room and find it empty…Billy is on the floor, my second arrow sticking out of his chest. When he gets up he won't be a threat to me anymore.

I leave the room, head back downstairs to the kitchen; the medical supplies they used on me early in the evening should still be there. I need to stop my leg from bleeding again before I pass out.

I enter the kitchen and stop cold.

That explains why I didn't see him upstairs. He's propped against the cabinets, blood soaked dish rag held to one side of his neck; I'm certain he's dead until I hear him breath, he raises his head sees me, one side of his mouth quirks up. Though why the hell he'd be smiling at me I have no idea.

"Seraphim…"

He's got no weapons, can barely speak but I still move carefully when I step forward crouch down a few feet in front of him, he glances at the distance between us mouth quirks up again.

"David." I watch his labored breathing.

"I'm sorry." That I did not expect.

"For what exactly?" So many things to apologize for, terrible things words can hardly undo…

"Everything," he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry" He pauses to breath, face drawn, pale and tight, "…that I found you that day, that I brought you here…"

"Because I killed your whole family." That makes sense, regret for ever knowing me. I can understand that.

He shakes his head once. Opens his eyes again to stare at me.

"No…I… I knew what they were doing was wrong…and I didn't stop them… They're my family…" his eyes cut through me.

"Living like this, you were right; it's not life. When Caleb…and…and Robert started to follow you; I should have taken you away from here. I knew what they were capable of, but I lied to myself, they're my family, but I should have chosen you."

I just stare at him. My hands shake in my lap.

"I wasn't yours to choose."

It wasn't like that, wasn't even a thought for me back then…

I'd been broken and lost when he'd found me still hog tied naked and drenched in blood covered in entrails and bile in the woods; half mad with dehydration and hysteria. Surrounded by the dead…

He probably should have shot me the second he found me.

"You came back, to save those people…after everything, all this time…"

I am not crying I tell myself. "I came back to kill them."

He lets out a breath, "I know," his inhale is more wheeze then breath.

"Does he know?"

My head jerks.

_God no, I can never tell him; watch him reject me fear me just like Caleb and Mark, even Abby and my own mother…_

"Tell them."

"I _can't._ Everyone hates me."

"He won't hate you Serap…"

"How can you say that?! Look at me! Why _Me?_ I didn't ask for this…" my voice crumbles. _I don't want this… what good is life when it means you'll always be alone…_

"Seraph…he won't hate you… I don't."

_How can he not? Everyone I've ever met has turned against me, abandoned me or worse…_

We stare at each other across the room till his eyes slip shut and he doesn't breath again.

_So many sins to confess, so much to let go of…and now it's too late._

I get up have to use the edge of the counter to get my legs under me again. Find the bottle of alcohol and gauze packs next to several blood soaked rags near the sink. I have to step over his mother's body to grab them, find myself staring at the arrow protruding from her for a moment before moving to one of the chairs.

I pour what I can stand onto my neck, palm and the few other particularly nasty cuts I've collected. Breathing so fast my head starts to spin.

I wrap what I can to try with what's left to keep them clean focusing on the most exposed; my palm and the worst injury which seems to still be my leg where I did in fact ruin some of the stitches holding me together. There are still two good ones, I pull the other two from my skin with a grunt, grinding my teeth. My hands shake as I re-apply the bandage around my thigh, wrapping it as tight as I can stand, trying to hold pressure over the two stitches still intact. I'll remove it in a bit, don't want to effect the circulation in my leg…but I need to stop the bleeding. That's more important right now; especially when I can't stop…not tonight.

I lay my head against the hard wood for a moment breathing while the room spins, remind myself that I have to keep moving: I can pass out from exhaustion and pain some other time when it's more convenient.

I start to laugh, but it hurts too much.

I haul myself up, refasten my pants and belts and retrieve the shotgun from the kitchen cabinet, gather the few arrows in the kitchen, not my brand….maybe I can leave them for him to find, he might need them.

I exit the house out the back door; the front now completely blocked with the collapsed porch. Most of the dead are still pressed against the front; but a few have started to wander around, can't have that.

_At least this part will be easy._


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes: **Two Short chapters ahead! Next two will hopefully be up before tomorrows episode!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I've been walking for far too long; the dull ache that haunted me most of the night is slowly fading to a tingling numbness that's spread through my extremities. A numbness that leaves just a dull thrumming under my skin.

You'd think without the pain as a constant distraction I'd be able to move faster, focus more on the task at hand but curiously I seem to be experiencing the exact opposite.

I caught up with them about halfway through the night. I've kept a careful distance so that my movement through the trees wouldn't be heard. I didn't need them shooting me in the dark thinking I'm one of the dead they left behind on the farm.

Daryl kept them moving through the whole night, and it's now well into midday. They've only stopped for a few minutes every few hours; even with the small kids.

Tyreese was carrying a sleeping Molly the last time I circled close enough to see them. They're obviously concerned that the horde they left back at the farmhouse will follow them; overtake them if they stop to rest.

And how could they not? They have no idea that they're no longer a threat.

I've been flanking them every few hours, alternating sides. A few times I even moved ahead of them—mostly when they stopped to rest, just to make sure that there weren't any Dead moving from the other highway toward the farm.

I'm far too tired to redirect the ones I have found. I resorted to simply shooting them sometime just before sunrise. It's a good thing at least my bow is silent, I seem to be making far too much noise myself.

I trip, catch myself on a tree just before falling to my knees, my breathing a bit too fast.

I stare down at my boots can't figure out what I got caught on; again.

I need to rest, and soon. But I'm afraid that if I do I'll never get up, that the pain will come back and I'll just curl into a ball and stay there. And there's still a small chance that they could run into a large group coming from the road.

_I just have to make it a little longer._

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

(Daryl's POV)

* * *

Something is wrong.

Someone must be following them.

He hasn't said anything to Glenn or Tyreese yet; but he's more certain with each hour that passes that they are not alone in the woods. Concern that it might be one of the Peacock brothers keeps him on edge.

And then there's the dead walkers they keep stumbling on. The first one they found just before the sun came up, had been close enough to the farm that he dismissed it as something Fin must have done in the two days they were separated while he was on the farm; or perhaps that evening when the original group of walkers attacked the house and she snuck in through the window.

When they found the second body he was tempted to think the same, but by the third he begin to doubt that possibility.

The fourth body that comes into view between the trees has him slamming to a halt, breath freezing in his throat.

_It's not possible…but there it is…_

The arrow protruding from the dead man's eye socket makes his heart pound in his chest.

The arrow is _his_.

_It's impossible. _

Because he knows they were never on this side of the farm. He's positive they're not traveling in circles and he hasn't fired a single arrow since the night before back on the Peacock farm…

He hasn't needed to he realizes because someone else is killing all the Walkers before they're even within ear shot.

It doesn't make sense, if it was one of the Peacocks still out here with them, there is no reason for them to be killing the Walkers before they encounter them. And it definitely wouldn't explain the arrow he's now bending over to yank from the dead corpse. He kneels there in the cold dirt, stares at it clutched in his fist heart pounding.

The only arrows he left were in the kitchen and upstairs in Eli; he's collected every other arrow he's fired out here in the woods...

He knows it can't be her, tells himself she went off the roof…

Fin fell into the horde…but who else is there?

Especially with a bow…

He gets up, circles them slowly as they continue on, starts inspecting the ground for footprints, any other sign that she might be nearby. Even as he tells himself it's ridiculous to look…it can't possibly be her.

Glenn has noticed him circling them, starts to casually split off from the rest of the group just enough so that their paths cross the next time he moves around. "What is it?" Glenn keeps his voice low so the others don't hear them—which is good.

The kids are already exhausted, they don't need to panic; noise could draw any Walkers still out there while he's trying to deal with whatever this is.

"Not sure. Think someone's follow'd us." He notices a print in the ground, stops to measure it with his hand, it's the right size….

"One of the Peacocks?" Glenn's tone is tight, he looks pale and tired.

"Except that makes no damn sense, that's the fourth dead Walker we've found, Haven't one up and kicking since last night."

"Do you think it could be that girl…"

He stops when he notes Daryl's expression. "She fell off the Damn roof."

"I know," Glenn stares down at his feet. "But when Caleb and Robert talked about her, they were legit spooked. The way those guys talked about her…"

He stops, looks away from Daryl's glare.

"I don't want to know what those fuckers had to say. After what they did to her…" His hands fist at his sides.

"It's just…it sounded like she'd pulled off some crazy shit before, they thought she was dead a couple of times and she kept turning back up."

There were at least 200 walkers in that yard; there was no way she made it out of there with no weapons, no protection. They'd have torn her to pieces the second she fell…

"Just keep you damn eyes open." He moves away again, still looking for tracks.

It's takes time, more than an hour of careful searching as they move. He has to circle wider then he likes from the group but eventually he finds what he's looking for in the soft patches between the leaves.

It's not much, but the size is right, the depression in the dirt right for her weight, and they're fresh.

He moves back towards the group. "Glenn,"

They stop, Daryl waves Tyreese past them. They wait.

"She's out there."

"How is that even possible?"

"Don't know, but it is." _It has to be._

"Do you want me to go with you?"

He shakes his head, needs Glenn to stay with the group, the kids are exhausted anyway. They probably should have stopped hours ago for them.

"Be safe man,"

"Yeah, you too."

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes: **Nother short Chapter, but longer ones are on the way Promise!

Big thanks to all the readers and Reviewers! You guys are great!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I stop again, I'm doing that way too much now.

I need to lean against the tree next to me, try to keep the forest floor under my feet from moving, curse under my breath when the sky decides to join it's lazy spin instead.

A twig snaps under someone's weight.

"Seraphim."

_No. _I jerk around, stumble with the world still spinning on me.

"God Damnit Girl." He walks toward me faster than I can back away. Especially after I catch my heel on an exposed tree root behind me; fire shoots up my leg instantly replacing the numbness in that limb.

A hissed curse slips out as I have to slap one hand out against the tree bark beside me to keep my balance, stumbling back another step.

"I'm fine." It sounds weak even in my ears.

"The Hell you are." He's right on top of me taking my bow out of my hand faster than I can react.

I try to pull away, but my exhaustion is far more serious then I realized, and my reaction time is severely compromised. I stumble backwards again, curse when he grabs my arm to steady me. I curse again when I take in the look on his face.

"Please, just go." I need to get away from him; before I pass out…which is probably going to be any second now judging by my swimmy vision.

But he's not going, just the opposite.

His hand reaches up to cup my face; _too close…_I jerk back, have to slap my hand out to steady myself as my world tilts at an odd angle; certain I must be falling; until I realize it's because he's bent to pick me up a split second later.

He ignores my protest except for a quick sharp bark of "_Quit_," when I try to pull away from his chest.

He starts to walk; taking me back towards the others...

_I can't let him do that,_ _there's too much chance someone will see…and if it happens in my current state…if I pass out defenseless in the group with a bite mark on my neck they could all decide to put a bullet in my brain before I can get away._

"Don't take me back there, please." I can't stop my fingers from fisting in his shirt though. Being carried isn't much better than walking it seems. I have to struggle against the spinning, fight the darkness creeping around the edges of my vision…

"You're never going back there. You're safe now."

_He doesn't get it…doesn't understand and I can't explain it; can't get away because my vision is blurring again…_darkening at the edges and then it gets blessedly quiet and very dark.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes:** It's SUNDAY! And I think tonight we Finally Get Daryl back! YAY! *happy dance* So, I'm trying to get these out before tonight incase anyone else is going Daryl Dixon withdrawl crazy like me! Hope you guys enjoy it, about two more chapters hopefully will go up tonight if I can get them proof read again. ;)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I don't think it's right to be ungrateful for waking up alive…

Having said that from the moment I drift back into consciousness I immediately wonder if I might be better off dead. All the numbness from earlier is gone and it's been replaced by sheer agony. I feel just like I imagine a grasshopper would after someone tries to pull it's legs off.

I don't open my eyes, not yet. I can't. Just lying still and breathing without groaning is an accomplishment. Several minutes pass while I count breaths in and out, try to articulate one ache from another in my self-imposed darkness. When that fails I just lie still and try to figure out how long I've been out and who is around.

Maybe I can sneak away again before they know I'm awake.

Slowly the pain recedes enough that I can focus on the voices, the crack of firewood burning nearby…

The words are quiet, but there are also too many of them for me to move undetected much less sneak away in the light of day, which it is judging by the brightness behind my closed eyelids. _So much for that option. _

I shift, open my eyes after blinking a few times and stare up at the branches overhead. I can see Daryl; don't even have to turn my head to do it. He's sitting not two feet from where I'm laid out, in my own sleeping bag I note. I'm warm finally and still fully dressed, Thank God.

Since I woke up at all I can only assume that no one has seen my bite mark. As I wake up further I can feel the heat of the fire they've built warming the left side of my face, it's almost too warm, I turn away let my eyes slip shut again and drift for a few moments longer.

We're not moving. Judging by the fire they've been still for a while now, at least a few hours. They barely stopped for longer than a few minutes the whole night before; but now everyone is stopped…he made them stop for _me. Despite the danger of the large herd of Walkers they still think may be out there._

He shifts when I move again. I can feel him watching me even with my face turned away from him to stare into the trees. I wonder if I can just get up, walk back into the tree line and disappear. I should have stopped before I got so tired, did something as stupid as leaving tracks in the mud or an arrow to tell him I was alive.

Now I'm stuck with very few options…if I'd been more alert he wouldn't have snuck up on me... I don't know what to say, what to do next, completely lost. But there's no use putting it off longer then I have to. I can't keep laying here thinking about what he might say getting more anxious by the minute. _ He_ knows I'm awake at least, even if the others don't. It's not like I'm going to find the right words anyway, I don't think they exist.

I roll to my side, push myself up with one hand; can't stop the wince or the harsh hiss when it pulls muscles in my shoulder, my back, increases the ache in the skin over my neck to a burning roar.

He's stopped fiddling with a stick he's sharpening and just sits there looking at me. Hunched over one of his elbows resting on his knee, he looks tired, it's been at least a few hours since he found me, since he carried my back here. It doesn't look like he's gotten any rest at all, has been sitting watch while everyone else sleeps. The small kids are laid out in my second sleeping bag now, fast asleep, the lady that lays next to them might be Tyreese's sister, or girlfriend; I have no idea. We didn't have time for introductions before. I sit up the rest of the way, take a moment to roll the long sleeves of Daryl's Flannel back up to my elbows.

I can feel the rest of them watching me, no one speaks. When I look up again I keep my eyes firmly on his; try to keep this conversation between us.

"I said, _don't_ take me back."

He scoffs "And what? Leave your ass in the woods, fall'n over your so damn tired an' hurt..." He trails off. Scowls, digs his knife into the dirt, drags the blade through it making a trench.

"It wasn't _your_ choice."

He stabs the dirt again punctuating his sentence. "I _made it my choice_." That quiet calm is back, this would be easier if he was yelling.

"I'm going to kick your ass when I get up."

He just stares at me, breath huffs from him in a quick rush; it almost sounds like the beginning of a laugh. "Not if I stomp yours first...The Hell didn't you come back?" He turns away from me, tosses the stick down, slides his knife back into its leather case below his belt. "You need to rest."

I shake my head._ I can't not anymore…Certainly not with all the eyes on me now._

"Fin?"

I turn my head to look at who's speaking.

"You're Fin?"

_I feel more like a raw piece of meat right now…_

"Yup, You're...Glenn?" I take a guess, he nods at me.

"Maggie was worried about you, she'll be glad you're alright."

He blinks. "You saw Maggie?"

I shift my eyes to Daryl again. "You didn't tell them?" He's staring at me again. Nods once. "I mentioned it."

"We saw you, go off the roof, you fell into the Walkers…How did you get away?" I turn away from him to stare at the man who must be Tyreese for a second. I'm not sure how to answer that still.

_It didn't take us long to get straight to the point…_

"I got lucky." I push the sleeping bag cover off my legs; swing them around so I can get up.

"You must have the devil's own luck," Tyreese mutters.

_He has no idea… _

I push up to my knees keep my palms flat on the ground for a moment so I don't lose my balance while my muscles screech in protest.

"Hell you think your do'n?"

"I'm going to check for Walkers. _You_ should get some sleep." The longer we sit around talking the weirder this is going to get. They were all in that room the other night, none of them will look me in the eye, even Daryl stares at me without making direct eye contact.

_Forget the complications of being bitten: Just This_ i_s too much right now._

"Daryl you _should_ get some sleep, we can wait a little longer to go right?" Glenn again.

Daryl's shaking his head, ignoring Glenn and the others. "Lay your ass back down."

"I _can't_." The need to move, do something is itching just under the surface of my skin.

"I can't do this right now." I stand up, proud that I keep my balance even though it hurts like hell. He's on his feet beside me a second later crossbow already in his hand.

"Fine, You want to scout, than let's go." I'm not going to argue with him in front of the others, and at least it gets me away from Glenn and Tyreese's guilty faces. I can't take much more of that.

I have to look around for my bow, spot it on the ground behind his feet, next to several straight sharpened sticks he's been whittling down to make new arrows. Bending over to pick it up is going to hurt like hell, but I can hardly walk into the woods without it. He's also standing right on top of it. He knows I'm in no shape to even pick it up.

I hesitate a moment too long.

Daryl steps forward with an agitated noise puts a hand behind my back and pushes me towards the trees away from the others.

Seems he's not anymore keen to do this in front of Glenn and Tyreese then I am.

I take a few quick steps moving ahead of him, he lets his hand drop to his side. We're probably still within earshot when he snarls a soft "Hell were you thinking staying out there like this!"

_I was thinking there was no way they'd accept that I might be alive, that there was no way I could face him after what happened the other night…_

His fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me to a stop, when I try to keep walking. I turn to face him, ready to jerk my hand back and get the shock of my life when his other hand comes up, fingertips trace over the split in my lip. "I'm sorry."

He leans into me; arms pull me to his chest I try not to think about his heartbeat, or his breath against my skin as he says it again, repeats it over and over whisper quiet.

"I'm fine." It's a reflex, out before I can process it.

He tenses against me, pulls back enough to take my hand, traces his fingers over the cuts on my exposed forearms where Kyle decided to ask me again in private if I knew where Caleb was.

His fingers shake when he moves to the other arm, traces it the same way.

"You're not fine, look what they did to you…" He stops. "What else did he do?"

I'm not going to give him a list to torture himself over. He was there, and he's not responsible for me.

"I don't want to talk about it." He stares at me for a full minute, maybe longer; I keep my eyes focused on his chest.

"I'm going to go." I turn to leave but his hand on my shoulder tries to stop me.

I react without thinking it through; try to jerk away and end up hissing out in pain when my abused joints and torn skin protest my movements. But instead of letting go when I cry out he jerks me back, wraps his other arm around my waist.

I lash out blindly hitting him even as he pulls me back against his chest. He has to lift me up holding me pinned when I kick out with my feet cursing at him. His other arm wraps around my chest his voice is trying to calm me.

But I don't want to be calm; I don't want to deal with whatever this is. I kick backwards, strike his leg and we both crash to our knees; if it wasn't for his arms around me yanking me back against his chest I'd probably have landed on my face.

I twist, getting nowhere, realize that somehow I'm sobbing complete nonsense, it only gets worse the second I notice it. I'm not even sure what half the words are, if they are words, or where they came from, they're just pain tearing out of me.

I slap at his hands, punch the one leg I can reach cursing him, cursing them, all of them till I can't get air into my lungs around the choking sobs. Just sit there violently gasping for air, letting him hold me up. I let my fingers encircle around his forearms, still holding me tight to his chest, squeezing them as hard as I can when I feel his forehead press against my shoulder.

We're both shaking and I can't seem to stop it.

My shirt must have shifted when we moved, because I hear him utter a sound so broken that the tears start all over.

I squeeze my eyes shut hide in the darkness as his hand moves to the flannel shirt collar against my neck. He's pulling it away and I know exactly what he's seeing when he makes that sound… and it's so much worse than I could have ever imagined because instead of shoving me away like he's suppose to he's wrapping around me tighter, face pressed to my neck another broken sound I've never heard before, don't ever want to hear again rips through him and it only makes me cry harder.

I can't stop my nails from digging into his arm keeping him around me when I should be pulling away, running as fast as I can. But I'm not, I can't. I just sit there and savor each breath he takes against my skin, each heartbeat against my back.

Any second he's going to shove me away; pick up that crossbow and end this, if I don't run now I'll never have a chance. Except he's mumbling words against my neck, ridiculous words that tear me apart, make him different then every other person I've ever come across…I turn my head to stare at him as he closes his eyes and lets his face press to my hair.

"I'm going to lose you," it's so soft I'm not certain I didn't imagine the words for a moment 'til he keeps speaking "I can't do this."

"Then don't."

_God what am I doing?_

"I'm okay, it's not what you think." He shutters against me, fingers slide up the other side of my neck turning me to look at him.

_He'll never accept this, can't possibly…_ His lips press against mine, hands pull me impossibly closer while my fingers fist in his shirt. I'm just starting to hope, feel the ache loosen in my chest when he pulls away.

"Daryl, I'm okay. I'm not sick…" He shakes his head, his fingers moving down my cheeks then drop to his side. He doesn't believe me. How could he? The faint hope that I might survive is laughable to anyone else in this world, any sane person at least.

"I'm okay," He nods but his eyes are far away. I pull away from him, sit a few feet away wiping my eyes, waiting for my breathing to stop hiccupping and catching every few seconds. My whole body trembling too hard to even attempt to stand.

_I've lost him._

* * *

**::Walking Dead::**

* * *

(Daryl's POV)

* * *

He's never felt more exhausted and cold in his life.

The shock rips through him incinerating every blind hope he hadn't even admitted to himself since he found those footprints, found his arrow in that corpse.

She survived the fall, she was alive…

_Except she wasn't, _

_isn't….he doesn't even know what the right word is. Doesn't give a shit._

All he knows is the world he exists in is a more fucked up version of Hell then anyone deserves. She's right there in front of him, telling him she's alright, and she's not…

He can't look at her, doesn't need to when the torn flesh marking her death sentence has imprinted itself on his eyes. He sees it everywhere he looks, the ground, the trees…he can't escape it, can't blink it away.

He must have done some terrible fucked up shit in another life to earn this…except this is just what happens now, this is life, he tells himself. Everyone dies; they just do it a lot quicker and more violently these days.

He still has dreams about Dale's eyes staring up at him as he pulled the trigger. It was supposed to be the right thing to do, he tells himself it was, everyone else did too, but they couldn't do it...

He'd stepped in when no one else could, when Rick's hand fell on that farm what feels like a lifetime ago…it might have been the right thing to do, but it still haunts him at times. There's something darker, more haunting about ending someone's life before they've stopped breathing…even if the bloody terrible end is inevitable…it's still death by his hand; death of a friend, a good person… _right_ or not that face still tears at him, haunts his dreams.

There's no way he can do it now.

The thought alone sends him into a panic. The thought of Tyreese or Glenn doing what he did for Dale, stepping forward to end it before she becomes one of those things fills the back of his throat with burning acid.

_He can't do this….and she's still telling him she's fine…Hell she even looks fine somehow, maybe it's just too soon…_

She stands up, doesn't look at him. Tells him she's going to leave and he's on his feet again, hand stopping her even when he can't look her in the eye, can't look at her at all…

_He'll do it. _

_He'll just wait till she's gone and then he'll do the right thing. _

_He can protect the others, keep them all safe…_

"You said you wanted to check the woods," She doesn't look at him still, simply starts walking again, her back straight, shoulders tense…maybe she expects him to shoot her in the back, _but he can't do it, not yet. He isn't ready._

When they circle back to camp everyone is awake, even the kids, they're all watching them. Glenn keeps swallowing staring at the fire. He's wearing the same look he had when Maggie and him came back from Woodbury.

They know, and how could they not when they were just shouting at each other in the fucking woods. Sasha is the only one that speaks when he sits down, but he can't focus on the words, they all blend together.

She's still telling them she's fine, but she never fixed her collar, and they can all see it now, they at least have the tact not to shy away from her.

She's saying something about leaving again, telling them how to get to the road.

Maybe he should let her go,

That way he doesn't have to see her-cold and dead.

He can lie to himself; pretend she's still out there somewhere…

Just like Carol...

He's staring down at his hands still when the gunshot splits the air.

He jerks on instinct reaches for his bow shouts a warning that's far too late, because she's just lying there while someone screams.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes:** Yay another Chapter! Look at that! I didn't leave you with a cliffhanger wondering what happened to Fin! Aren't I nice? ;)

Thanks to all the readers and reviewers you guys are awesome!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Heat slices across my left temple as I turn it engulfs the whole left side of my head in an instantaneous piercing migraine that halts all thought. I can't even breath for a few sickening heartbeats. I'm flat on my back before the shot splits the air, reaches my ears, it echoes off the trees all around us.

I lay there with too many fragmented thoughts to make any sense. Staring up at the sky trying to figure out what the hell just happened for what might be minutes or seconds I'm not sure when Daryl leans over me eyes wide. Seeing his face jolts something back into place. I twist my neck, blink furiously at the stinging blood trying to fill my left eye.

"Is she…"

He grabs my hand to stop me from touching my forehead. Speaks at the same time I do.

"She's alive…."

"I'm not dead…"

I try to roll so I can sit up but Daryl's trying to stop me.

I slap his hand away, press two fingers to the searing pain on my head, swear I can feel bone for a second, it throbs with each pounding heartbeat. I can feel blood running down my cheek. I press my palm to a deep laceration breath hissing out, but keep my hand firmly pressed to my scalp.

"Who fucking shot me?"

_I have no choice now. I won't survive a second attempt. It's pure dumb luck that I'm not dead right now. _

_That should have been the end right there…_

Daryl reaches for my face but I jerk away from him, slap his hands away again with a snarled. "Don't fucking touch me!"

His eyes narrow, but he stands; backs up even. He hovers a few feet away, tucks his hands under his arms watching me.

Tyreese and Sasha are standing next the oldest girl, Lizzie. Sasha has a gun in her hand but she's not looking at me, holding it all wrong to have fired it, it's not even pointed at me. They're both staring at the girl between them like they've never seen her before, eyes wide. Lizzie just stands there watching me climb to my feet, face void of any expression: completely blank.

Tyreese looks more freaked out then she does.

"What the Hell are you doing shooting me in the head?!"

"You got bit, you're going to turn. I'm protecting the group, you're endangering everyone."

I glare at her. "Word of advice; Dead People Don't Talk. _I'm Not Dead Yet_!" I'm almost screaming the last bit. "And I'm not going to turn into anything!"

_How many people like me might be around if it wasn't for people's knee jerk reactions…_

"I've had it with you people! You don't even know what's going on and you shoot me?!"

Okay, I'm screaming now.

I swipe at the blood in my eye, clench my hands at my sides with the urge to punch something. This is why I don't live with people I remind myself. They're panicky, stupid animals. Just my luck I'd survive the Peacocks and almost get taken out by an 11 year old with a hand gun and an itchy trigger finger.

_To hell with these people. All off them. I'm done._

I yank the flannel collar open, probably losing a few buttons, wrench his shirt off my arms and launch it at his stunned face. The tight ball of fabric smacks him head on he doesn't even try to catch it with his hands. He's too busy staring at all the marks that bloomed into full color on my pale skin overnight. I don't need to look at them to count the bite marks Eli and Kyle thought were hilarious to leave on my skin; I can feel them.

I hear Sasha and Glenn's reaction behind me, Tyreese's curse. I ignore them though too busy jabbing my finger at him, spitting my next words. I don't care how upset he looks.

"Don't look for me again. I've lost enough because of you people." I grab my bow off the ground with a painful jerk. He still hasn't moved.

"Where are you going?" Glenn asks me, not Daryl. of course not.

He's just staring down at the ground. Hasn't moved since I slapped his hand away. I don't have time to deal with his wounded pride, not with my life being threatened.

"The _Hell_ away from you people-that's where." I walk over to my pack grab it from against the tree, swing it over my shoulder with a grunt of pain. They can keep the sleeping bags for the kids. I'm not going to waste time rolling it back up, I'll just get new ones_. _

_One's that don't smell like him._

"Do me a favor Glenn-tell Rick I'll be by to grab some supplies. And if he; or anyone else shoots at me: I'm gonna throw _his_ ass off the fucking roof."

Glenn nods staring blankly at me.

_They think I've lost my mind. That I'm going to die out here._

_Whatever. I could give two shits what they think._

"When she attacks us in the middle of the night you'll see I was right." Lizzie.

I glare at her. "Do me a favor keep the tiny sociopath on a leash. I don't fancy getting shot in the back."

He's still not saying anything, but neither are the rest of them. I didn't expect them to; knew this was going to happen the second Daryl found the mark. _Didn't realize it was going to hurt this much._

"You don't have to do this." Sasha's voice calls out to me.

I should keep walking.

I stop, turn around anger rolling off me like waves of heat.

"Yes. I do! Because you people just don't get it! I'm not going to sleep with one eye open, looking over my shoulder every five seconds for one of you to stab me in the back. I went back into that house knowing exactly what I was in for, because it was either _me_ in that fucking nightmare or _you_!" I jab my finger at Lizzie; Sasha is the one that flinches though, Glenn and Tyreese too, they both look away. I don't look at Daryl, avoid even turning my head in his direction.

"I was willing to die to save you, because I thought you were worth it. Hell of a way to say Thanks. Fuck you all. I'm done."

I turn and leave before they can say anything else.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

**Notes: **I'll try to get the next chapter up quickly! I've got the two chapters written after it, but getting Daryl and Fin to snark at each other isn't easy to do... ; )


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer:Not mine! Poo.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

He's following me again.

Well… technically _I've_ still been following _them_; but let's not argue semantics.

I should have just kept going when I left earlier. I almost did. Should have known he would track me down…_Literally._

If I hadn't run into a group of ten Walkers about a mile from them I probably would have just kept going north, hit a different highway and never looked back.

But I couldn't do it.

Instead I cursed; a lot, and rather inventively I should add before I slipped right back into what I was doing before he found me.

I've been circling them slowly all afternoon keeping them safe because apparently I am an idiot despite my claim that I want nothing more to do with them.

But I'm not the only Dumbass it seems. Because I succinctly remember telling him _not_ to look for me. And I'm quite certain that he _still_ hasn't slept in almost two days. I'd be even more furious about that if I didn't know for a fact that we're the only things out here. Regardless, he left them camped in the middle of nowhere just before dusk to find me anyways.

I know when he left them and where because I was close enough to them when they stopped to hear him tell Glenn he was doing exactly what I told him _Not_ to.

I could have cursed him out right then and there from about 200 feet away.

By the time he circled out to find my footprints I'd had a decent head start but he's seriously skilled even in the near dark. I could keep quiet and just keep moving but he's going to catch up to me eventually.

I was really hoping it wasn't going to be quite so soon.

"Go away!"

I _know_ he can hear me.

I'm not sure exactly where he is yet; but I know he's there.

"No!"

_Over there. _

I turn, hate to do it but I grab an arrow, nock it but keep my bow pointed down, no tension on the string, the ends gently pinched between my fingers as I move, spinning every so often to look around me as I try to put more distance between us. I listen for his footsteps, movement, something in the low light.

"Go Away Daryl!" I turn and practically slam into him.

"No."

I don't scream, but I do nearly fall on my ass.

"Jesus Christ!" I jerk back, "Don't do that!" He kicks out at my bow with his foot, uses the toe of his boot to knocks it out of my hands. He hasn't shot me yet…

…wait.

"Where the _Hell _is _your_ bow?" _Is he out of his freaking mind?_

"I didn't think I'd have to track you _this far_."

_Bully for me_.

"Well, you should have gone back." Coming out here without his damn crossbow, even if he has a gun and a knife…

"I thought you were done saving our worthless asses."

"I am."

He stares at me, doesn't call my bluff out loud at least. He pulls something from behind him previously wedged in his back pocket, its bigger than the handkerchief he usually carries the same way. He shakes it out.

Tosses it at me, I catch it. Hold it in my hand between us.

His flannel.

"_Put it_ _back_ _on_."

My stomach betrays me with a flip.

This feels like a hell of a lot more than _just_ a shirt…

I almost forgot the exact shade of blue his eyes turn at dusk.

I drop my eyes to the patterned cotton. My long sleeve shirt's kinda been repurposed with holding my head together…

I open it with both hands, wince putting my arms back into the sleeves. I tense when he steps closer, can't breathe when he pulls the collar up against my skin. He freezes head tilted, staring down at me the back side of his fingers warm against my neck.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

And then my stomach is in my throat because he's kissing me, and I can't breathe. Feel myself leaning into him, can't stop my traitorous hands from pressing against his chest.

Until he pulls away, steps back, reaches around the back of the tree he was standing near and hands me one of my sleeping bags. His mouth does that sideways quirk again.

"Stay warm, I'll check on you again."

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

(_Daryl's POV)_

She's out there.

This time he knows it, can't help but watch the trees around them for signs; search the ground for footprints that tell him she's close.

Either he's seriously on his game today,

or she's playing with him on purpose.

She must know somehow the way his heart hammers in his chest every time he thinks he's caught a glimpse of red-gold hair between the trees out of the corner of his eye. Has to jerk his head to look; to see if it's her.

He's making Glenn fucking jumpy as Hell he's doing it so much.

He can't stop. Every time he finds a foot print he has to crouch down to check it- gauge how old it is, when the last time she circled through was….his ears echo with every sound in the trees, he's never listened so hard in his whole damn life.

Around noon he _knows _she's playing with him.

The smiley face she carved in the dirt for him to find finally tips him off.

The stupid curly letters spelling out 'Hi Daryl' under it make him blush. He kicks his boot through it quickly before Glenn or Tyreese can see. Feels like a dumb ass kid back in grade school with his very first pink valentine card from a girl trying to hid it from his buddies.

They keep walking, every time they stop for a short break he spends all of it circling them, staring out into the trees, watching.

Finally Glenn can't take it anymore, pulls him aside.

"Dude, just go out there and find her, you're driving me crazy."

He pulls a face, stares off into the woods. "I'm good."

"Look, Tyreese and Sasha are keeping a closer eye on Lizzie; just get her to come back."

He frowns. "Don't know if that's gonna happen." She seemed pretty damn set on staying out of the group at least right now.

"Look I know she's dealing with some…..some serious shit right now, okay?"

He glances at Glenn mouth tight. They were both there, don't have to say it.

"And God knows the whole Lizzie thing did not help the situation, but she's hurt; and alone and that's no place for her to be."

"What do you expect me to do?" It's obvious Glenn's angling for something, thinks he's got some kind of sway over her.

"Look," Glenn sighs. "If it was Maggie; I'd be out there with her, not here."

"She aint Maggie."

She's fine out in the woods, has three years of hard experience to back it up besides he can't leave the kids, needs to keep an eye on Lizzie.

There aint no way she's gonna let him bring her back to the group; she'd kick his ass or go down trying. She's not ready yet.

Maybe when he's got Rick to help him figure this out…but at least she's still out there, hasn't disappeared yet.

The thought makes him itch to go search for tracks again.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

They haven't seen a Walker all damn day; and he didn't find any more smiley faces in the dirt neither.

They reach a side road crossing the woods just before dusk.

He stands there for a few minutes picturing the map in his head, trying to decide if they should follow it south, or cross it and keep to the trees.

His heart nearly stops when he looks up and sees her standing on the other side of the road. She tilts her head indicating the direction they should take. Before moving back into the trees.

He knows Glenn and Tyreese saw her, Sasha too; but nobody comments on it. Nobody argues when he turns and follows the road, empty of cars. It will be dark very soon, and cold tonight judging by the cloudless sky and the bite in the wind.

He's looking around him not down so he almost misses the arrow scrawled in the dirt meant for him. He stops almost stepping right on it. It's indicating a gravel drive off the road, moving back into the trees. He takes to the gravel, knows she wouldn't point them this way without good reason, she'd just let them find their own place to camp

There's an old double wide back in the woods, someone scrawled a smiley face on the front door with berries, fortunately no note.

"That your girl?" Tyreese is standing next to him.

He grunts in response hefts his crossbow up to check the house.

He goes in first Glenn and Tyreese on his heels, but the house is empty, blessedly clean, and at least blocks the wind from outside. It's walls they haven't had for days. They all need sleep.

He ushers everyone inside. Finds himself siting at the table chewing at his fingernails staring out the glass doors into the woods while the others fuss over beds and couches and blankets.

He didn't expect to find her sitting in here, not with Lizzie, and the others around…but that means she's still out there.

The flicker of firelight catches his eye in the dark, out in the trees.

"Glenn."

"Yeah?"

"Keep everyone up here. _In_ the house." Glenn is looking out the back door now.

Daryl can barely make out his expression in the moonlight through the glass. "Just be careful."

"Get some rest."

"I was going to say the same to you."

He slides the glass door open, shuts it behind him with a squeak. Pauses to listen to the woods before he moves across the deck, bow slung over his shoulder, and into the trees towards the firelight.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, except for Fin...and I wouldn't try separating them if I were you, they get cranky. O_o

**Notes:**_This chapter and it's contents are_ **M Rated**_ for Sure! xD Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

The second I hear the twig snap I know it's got to be him.

I push up onto my elbows watch the shadows in the darkness slowly shape themselves into his form. I wait till he's standing in the firelight before I speak.

"What the hell are you doing?"

_He should be with the others, not here with me. If they still think I'm infected, him being out here alone with me will drive them crazy._

"It's too cold out here."

I frown at him, sweep my arm towards the house.

"Then go back." He looks down for a moment, face pulled into a twisted expression; not quite a scowl-I'm starting to recognize it as his _'what the hell do I say face.'_

I wait while he prepares whatever argument he's about to make; I know what he wants. And it's not an option. He stares at me, still looking pensive.

We don't speak for a full minute.

"You should come back with me."

My throat closes even though I expected it. "No."

He moves closer to me. I sit up the rest of the way, not sure what to expect. Is he going to try to drag me into the house with everyone else? If he tries it I'm going to kick his ass.

He moves faster then I expect his face unreadable in the low light. Without warning he's right on top of me, knees suddenly on either side of my hips pinning me in my own sleeping bag.

His hands circle my upper arms. I jerk back pulling him off balance fully expecting him to move back as he's always done before when we get close, retreat and give me a chance to get away… at least put some space between us so I can get my heartbeat under control.

He doesn't let go, though; jerks me back towards him instead.

I twist trying to shove him off me and we go down in a tangle of limbs. He grunts with effort, kicks off the ground and rolls us again until I'm pinned once more.

I kick in a futile attempt to knock him off of my waist, but my legs are trapped in the sleeping bag twisted around my hips. His fingers lock around my biceps press me into the dirt, his nose inches from mine.

My hands are on his hips from my attempt to push him away the first time; the edge of my palms are pressed against warm bare skin under his shirt.

One of my fingers brushes cold metal, I jerk, twisting one shoulder off the ground to give me the reach I need to snatch the knife he keeps clipped to his belt loose. I tossing it with a flick of my wrist quickly even as he wraps his fingers around my forearm trying to jerk my hand away from the blade's handle. I've seen him stab more than a few Walkers with expert precision using that very blade; I don't want to see a demonstration up close tonight, still not sure what this is about…

We both hear it thud softly against the dirt somewhere out in the darkness.

He's silent, just that one edge of his brow raises while we stare at each other only inches apart, breathing hard.

I wait to see what happens next, now that he's disarmed. Though he doesn't look ready to attack me…I change my mind when his eyes fix to my lips.

He lets go of my wrist finally. I keep my hand frozen in the air between us unsure what to do with it. He raises his arm fingertips pinch the flannel collar of his shirt against my neck, he pulls it away eyes moving over the raw skin just above my clavicle.

I can't read his expression as he pulls the collar open further causing two of the buttons over my chest to pop open with his soft tug exposing more skin. I don't move, can barely bring myself to breath.

He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be touching me like this; running his fingertips down one side of my neck…I shiver under his touch watch his eyes darken further. I can't stop the tremble that works its way down my body as his fingers dip further down, tracing the smooth skin under the mark. They follow the line of my collar to the hollow dip just before the rise of my shoulder.

Just the barest of touches and my stomach is doing summersaults.

"When Jim got bit, he had a fever within hours," He's staring at the bite mark again.

It's been three nights since I fell off the roof.

His fingers move to trace the mark over my left temple half hidden in my hairline. The scab over the bullet graze that could have killed me. His palm slides over my temple down to my cheek, My breath leaves me with a rushed exhale when his thumb grazes my skin.

"You're not sick, Did Eli do this to you too?"

My mind seizes on that. If he could accept that…if they could…

_I could keep him…_

I wrap one hand around his neck, pull him down and press my lips against his. I gasp into his mouth when he presses me back into the ground. His hand slides from my cheek to cup the nape of my neck. His fingers curling in the knotted braid there holding me tightly to him; using his grip to tilt me into his kiss.

He stops holding himself over me, moving his other hand from around my arm to loop under my lower back, pressing his chest against mine. He's pinning me against the cold dirt where we've flipped off the material's edge making my heart race, but not because I'm afraid…

He pulls away from me after several delicious minutes, presses his mouth to my ear breathing unsteady.

"I thought I lost you." My insides twist, breath leaves me in a rush.

_So did I…_

"So stop wasting time." I run my fingers through his hair, curl them into a tight fist steering his mouth back to mine.

The hand I was previously unsure where to place makes up for lost minutes gripping the muscle of his bicep. I angle my mouth under his, let my tongue trace over his bottom lip, moan my approval when he mirrors the action before tightening his hold on my hair.

Then he's pressing his mouth to the uninjured side of my neck, breathing me in. I gasp and squirm trying to get the sleeping bag tangled around my hips loose as he presses hot open mouthed kisses from my ear to shoulder, before slowly making the journey back to my mouth. Drawing me up to him with one hand, while his tongue slips over mine, invading my space; exploring me till I'm dizzy from lack of oxygen.

He pulls away and I draw in a shaky breath, let my fingers slide down his sides to the belt at his waist. I slip my hands between us. He raises himself a few inches allowing my fingers the space to twist between us, release his buckle, pop loose the top button and start to slide down the zipper covering him. He grabs my hand then, stops me from taking this further despite the catch in his breathing.

I twist finally pushing the thick sleeping bag down over my legs, kicking it away so that when he lowers himself only the thin cotton of clothing lies between us.

I bend one knee, hissing softly when it pulls at the wound I temporarily forgot about on my thigh; shake my head to tell him to ignore it when his eyes move back to mine. I raise my mouth to his again content to feel him pressed against me his heat radiating through me all the way to the bone; chasing the last of the night's chill from my body.

When I nibble his lip he grinds down into me with a growl, the firm bulge of his cock pressed to my center. Even fully clothed the sensation makes me sigh, gasp into his mouth, sends wet heat spiraling down through me to curl my toes.

I pull back trying to catch my breath fail when his mouth returns to trace the outline of my ear, trails down my neck again.

I drop my hands to my own buckles since he has made no move towards them himself. His hands still maddeningly chaste over my clothes despite the heat of his mouth; the hungry press of his hips against mine. I gasp again at the friction, arch my back and roll my hips up into his touch.

I work my buckles loose with a few quick jerks, slide my hands over my own waistband tugging them down over my hips. The action pulling his own pants lower so they sit just barely clinging to the swell of his perfect ass. He drops his forehead to my shoulder, breathing harsh, hot against me even through the worn flannel shirt still separating his mouth from most of my skin.

I grab his belt over his hips, press down while he shudders.

The hand that was around my back slides out to slip over my skin. I twist my hips kicking my pants down till I can free my feet; raise my leg again, wrap one ankle over the back of his thigh parting my heat to press against him.

He shifts, elbow drawing back behind him so he can slide his palm up over my thigh, fingers tightening just above my knee holding me still so I can't draw my leg higher; stopping me from wrapping my calf around his hips.

So I roll them instead, feel him press into my thigh as he shifts his weight, his own hips jumping forward when he feels my heat.

My name tumbles out of him, his fingertips tightening mindlessly several times as he fights the urge to tilt his hips, align himself and thrust deep. I slide my hands down his sides, run my fingertips back up under his shirt lifting it's hem to expose more skin for me to explore.

I keep pulling till it's bunched under his arms, breath out a quick command of "off" watch as he releases my leg without hesitation, leans back on his heels to slide his shirt up over his head and tosses it away.

I follow him, not content to wait even the few seconds of separation. The need to take control, driving me to press my palms into his now bare shoulders, push him back to sit. He places one hand behind him palm down so he can straighten his legs out without falling, watching me.

I keep my fingers on his shoulders, climb over him to straddle his thighs again, just like last time. He doesn't pull away this time his only movement the rise and fall of each quick draw of breath.

His eyes look black in the dark, his skin jumps with shadows from the low flames to our right. I scoot forward, walking my way up his thighs on my knees till we're pressed together chest to chest. His free hand fists gently in the front lapels of the long flannel shirt still separating our skin.

He pops two more buttons at the top pulling one side over and almost completely of my shoulder, his fingertips tracing my other collar, skimming feather light across the circular and moon-shaped bruises painting my pale skin blue, and purple in the light.

I moan roll my hips into him when his mouth replaces them, tracing patterns across my sensitive skin, when he moves up my neck, teeth sliding ever so carefully on my ear, my fingers grasp the remaining buttons ready to pull them loose, offer him the rest of my skin to explore. I stop when his hand slides over mine.

"Leave it." I tilt my face up to him, hold his gaze for a moment before he flushes, turns his head away clearing his throat. "I like it."

He flushes harder, fidgets with the collar still clasped between his fingertips, his eyes dart to mine before sliding nervously away again.

I slide my fingers through his hair, lean to follow him; bring him back. I press against his body, feel him throb against my folds when I roll my hips, the hand at my collar slides back around my neck pulling me flush against his chest, embracing me with his kiss.

I arch my back, rub against him, don't recognize the noise that sensation pulls from me, but judging by the tightening of his hands, and the way his body tenses against mine he likes it.

My fingers dip between us, to wrap around him. He leans his forehead against mine breath hissing out on my name. I slide my palm over him, circle my thumb around the tip, listen as his breathing comes faster and his hips jerk towards my hand.

I can feel him shaking under my other hand as I slide my fingers down over his temple, smooth over his cheek; slip back across his neck to pull his mouth to me again.

I raise up on my knees, his hands tighten on my hips; he pulls back eyes locked onto mine in the dark. He knows what I'm doing now; after last time, his teeth press into his lower lip in anticipation. While his hands shake against my sides, fisting in his flannel shirt over my ribs.

I use my hand to guide him while he holds himself still, barely breathing. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest as I lean into him shifting my hips, sliding his tip through the wet heat gathered at my folds. His breath leaves him in a tight hiss, teeth tearing into his bottom lip with the effort to hold himself perfectly still beneath me. He trembles from head to toe the muscles in his arms standing out in stark relief, waiting like a coiled spring.

I push back and down feel him stop breathing completely as I sink over him. I have to take him slowly, my insides still ache and pull, protesting the intrusion; but if I'm going to be sore another day I want it to be because I chose it.

I want this, I want him.

I lean in again, press a whisper of a kiss to one side of his mouth…just like the first night when my touch made him whimper against my lips; tremble under my fingers.

Now it's my turn to do so when his lips chase mine, his palms cup my cheeks, touch so gentle it's barely there. I feel him throb and flex deep inside me, his body begging for more even as he fights the urge. His fingers are unbelievably gentle against my skin.

I rise up, just as slow as my first movements. His eyes follow me, palms press to my cheeks holding my gaze. Still not moving against me even when I lower myself back onto him, and his eyes squeeze shut breath tearing out of his lungs.

I let my hips roll against his, he feels good inside me, even with the aching protest of sore muscles not ready to be stretched so far.

I let my head drop forward, press my nose against the crook of his neck, his hands slide back till one cradles the back of my head. The other wraps around my shoulders, holding me against his chest.

"We can stop." His voice is quiet, someone how steady despite our racing hearts, unsteady breath.

I shake my head against his skin, take his scent deep into my lungs. _We can't stop._

"I don't want to hurt you." His voice is tight.

I grab his arm slide my fingers up to his elbow pulling his fingers away from my cheek; pressing a kiss to his palm while he watches me. I replace his hand against my side, press his fingers into my hip, raise myself up and slide back down again, tightening my fingers over his on my skin like a lifeline.

"Don't stop." I press against him, lean into him breath against his ear as I slide over him again, this time rolling my hips at the last second. He groans hips rocking against mine.

"Touch me, please." I need his touch covering up the others…erasing the memory from my skin, making me feel alive.

His hips move against mine finally. His palm pressed into my spine, dragging the next roll of my pelvis against his into a slow grind that has me gasping his name, his head tilts back, breath unsteady.

"Daryl," He doesn't open his eyes, "Please, it needs to be you, I need you."

I want his touch filling me with heat; chasing away the cold, the numbness; filling the ache. I probably shouldn't want him like this but I do, I'm shaking with it, the need to feel him deep inside me, feel him loose himself, crying out my name. I need to be his again, even if it might only be for a little while.

I slide over him, roll my hips into his thrust feel the barest of tingles starting under the ache, deep inside.

He's the one shaking again, eyes locking onto mine, his hands move to my hips. I cover them with mine, feel him lace his fingers between mine while I thrust against him setting a rhythm 'til his eyes slip shut.

I let go of his hands, press my palms to his shoulders, his eyes open to watch me, but he leans away with my touch pliantly. He lifts his hands from my skin to brace himself, falls back when I continue to push.

He lets me press him all the way back to the ground. He tenses for a moment, watching me; seems to find something in my expression that relaxes him. He raises his hands slowly, places them on my thighs.

I place my hands over his, slide them up over my skin to my hips rolling against him sliding over him; keeping his palms against my skin. I gasping when his fingertips tighten over my hips. I rise up, almost leaving him, while his back arches just barely off the ground; stomach muscles tightening. His breath rushes out.

I pause for a moment, watch his eyes move to the space between us when I slip back over him again. Fascinated by the way his expression changes again, he bends one leg behind me, uses the leverage to thrust into my next movement. His hands slide to the small of my back, arms flexing with the next withdrawal lifting me up, changing the angle of my hips rocking into me. He watches his body slide into mine, his eyes darken with each thrust.

"You like that?" His eyes flick to mine. I swear he blushes even in the dark…

I take one of his hands in mine, press his palm to the flat plane between my hipbones where I can feel him pressed deeper with each thrust. I watch his lips part, his tongue dart out to wet his lower lip, breath catching as he feels it.

"That's you." Now I blush, bit my lip.

I roll my hips, press my hand into his, his fingers shake under mine. He lets out a curse tilts his head back against the dirt and he thrusts unconsciously, bucking harsh and fast up into my heat.

He curses again, shaking, stills under me, breath ragged, he's waiting for me to pull away from him.

I sigh instead, roll my hips over his in encouragement, watch him dip his chin to meet my gaze again. I move my hips again, watch his eyes drop to his hand, still pressed to the smooth skin bellow my navel.

His thumb slides over me and I let my eyes slip shut, feel his grip tightening around me, the fingers at the small of my back pressing me forward into his palm where he can feel each thrust inside me, each roll of our hips.

He's still staring at his hand pressed to my skin when I open my eyes again, change my angle ever so slightly and begin rocking over him; burying him with each downward press. I know he's feeling a part of himself buried tightly in mine, can feel how far he presses, how deep my head slips back with the shiver of heat the trickles down my spine.

I let my hips rise and fall, roll, quickening my movements 'til he's thrusting up against my rhythm, breathing nothing more than tightly controlled pants of my name lost in the darkness.

I lean forward let my palms rest on either side of his head, his hands slip back to my waist, pulling my hips forward grinding each rolling thrust with carefully controlled pressure against my skin. He arches his back bucks his hips up into mine and grunts my name, his fingers press into me with bruising force, and it feels fantastic to press back against him… can't describe the contentment I feel when he shudders and bucks hard; losing control. I watch his expression as his hips buck diving inside me to spill his release, as he lets go. I don't follow him, not ready not even close, but this is enough.

I lean down, curl against his chest while his arms wrap around me; his breathing fast and unsteady. His heartbeat races under my ear.

I wait for him to come back down, enjoy the circles and patterns he absentmindedly traces across my back over the flannel protecting us both from the cold. I tense when he lifts up, muscles flexing under me; his arms still wrapped around my back.

He mutters a soft "sleeping bag." As he moves, takes one hand from my back to shift us over setting us down onto the material I kicked free of earlier in the night. His hand presses to my shoulder blade keeping me to his chest when I start to pull back.

He tosses the bottom corners away, flattens it back out and lays down taking me with him still. Pulling the top portion back over us like we did so many times before…I let my legs stretch out, slide over his chest to curl against his side, feel his fingers trace over my side several times through the thin cotton.

I can feel his breath against my hair, his whisper tickles my ear. "Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head against his chest. I'm sore but I was sore and tight before.

I needed this, can't explain it, I'm not sure why myself.

His arm tightens around me he shifts, turning so we're chest to chest, my head tucked against his neck. He's warm, his breathing soothing.

I'm asleep within minutes.

* * *

**::walking dead::**


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, which fills me with great sadness, it truly does...so I'm stealing them to use for my own nefarious plots...muhahaha

**Notes:** Big thanks to all the readers and reviewers!

Another **M rated** bit here before we have to get back to plotlines...drat! ; )

As always you guys rock!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Daryl!"

He's awake instantly, hand jerking forward to find his crossbow, except he can't find it…and someone mumbles something against his bare chest; fingers tighten around his arm.

His heart is in his throat, brain kicked straight into 'danger mode' his fingers finally wrap around the stock of his bow at the same time that her fingers wrap around his wrist. He freezes, breathing fast when he hears her voice.

"It's just Glenn." How she can tell chin snuggled up against his bare chest like that…

He glances up to see Glenn grinning like an idiot from a few feet away. Tries to ignore the heat in his face when Glenn cocks his eyebrow at their clothing scattered across the dirt. At least her back is still covered by his shirt.

"There a problem?" He barks out, swears he feels her smile against his skin.

Glenn ignores his outburst, shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet like a freaking kid on Christmas morning.

"So… We were going to head out soon," Glenn shoots him a look, "just wanted to see if you guys were coming?"

Daryl glares at him. He's going to stomp his ass in about two seconds.

"Right, I'll uh, wait for you back at the house." Glenn seems to get the picture, spins and quickly moves away not looking back.

"Time to move?" Even as she says it, she snuggles deeper against him, sighing. Rubbing parts of his anatomy he didn't notice at first but now has all his attention. He grunts in response, still watching Glenn move away.

"Shouldn't be out here like this, not safe." He scans the trees around them, shouldn't have let himself fall asleep last night before taking her back to the house with him.

He jumps when he feels her lips against his skin. "Hell you doing?"

She presses her lips to his neck again, "I'm safe with you."

_Shit._ He won't think about the way his gut tightens when she says that.

His hands slide over the cotton flannel at her sides, fingertips trace the dip just inside each hipbone while she breathes against his neck, pulls one leg up over his hip and wiggles, pressing him against her opening.

"Seraphim."

She hums against his ear in response, rolls her hips, tilts against him and he can feel the heat coming off her, calling to him. He groans, twists to press her back, hand gripping her knee hiking her leg up over his back.

She gasps, jerking in his grasp and he halts instantly. He stares down at her, eyes as wide- as startled as hers.

_Shit he grabbed her, flipped her and didn't even think about it…_

"I'm sorry…" He tries to pull back but she tightens her leg around his back. Takes in a slow deep breath, she shakes her head. He watches her tongue flicks out to wet those distracting lips.

"It's okay,"

"It's not." His eyes drift to the marks on her skin, visible through the wide opening around her neck, in the pale light filtering through the trees around them. Bruises, bite marks, show where one side of his shirt has slipped completely off one shoulder, then there's the shallow slices from Kyle's knife across her forearms to remember as she runs her fingers up his arms.

She watches him, face calm again. "You're right, it's not okay. But it will be."

He stares down at her.

"I want you," it's barely a whisper, makes his insides tighten into a mess of knots.

"Unless, you don't want me back…" She doesn't drop his gaze, but she lets her leg slide off his hips, lays still beneath him.

_He shouldn't_, _It's not right…_his breath tears out of him in a nervous rush.

He can still feel her center against him, his body pulses and tingles with raw need to fill her. He needs to drive himself forward into her heat and make it his own. The desire to do just that claws at him, rips the argument he's trying to make from his grasp.

_She wants him…he doesn't understand how, but it's there… _

Her name is all he manages to get out before he moves.

He presses into her, feels her arch under him. Her arms wrapping around his waist, leg sliding up over one of his thighs dragging him deeper. He buries his nose against her hair, breathing her in. Tries to memorize the feel of his chest sliding over hers with each agonizingly slow exaggerated thrust. He presses forward with careful grip on his control, eyes slipping shut when the fire starts to burn through his nerves. Each slow thrust has her arching her breasts against his chest, gasping his name as he buries himself all the way inside her. Feeling every inch of impossibly tight silk heat pressing around him. She gasps against his chest, a barely audible whisper of his name pressed to his skin.

He halts, feels her flutter and flex around him, muscles tightening in his back and arms when she rocks her hips against his. Feels her jerk underneath him when he draws back, fingers pressing into his skin, pulling him back to her again.

He blocks everything but the feel of her heat surrounding him the soft sigh of her lips against his collar; her fingers wrapped around his neck holding his mouth against her skin.

He drives into her losing his grip, _too fast…to hard_…but she's not stopping him; just the opposite.

She practically mewls, shudders and bucks up against him, her muscles seizing around him in a release that takes them both by surprise.

He drives himself down into her with a few last staggering thrusts into her velvet heat;

rides out each trembling, shuddering wave that rolls through her 'til his own orgasm catches up with him.

He lets it explodes up his spine, sending his mind spinning out of control, his nerves coursing with pleasure that steals his focus, narrowing his whole existence 'til it's only her heat pulling him in and her fingers tracing up his spine.

It takes his breath away; feeling her molten heat lock around him with the last flutters of her release. Leaves him desperate to drag air back into his lungs, struggling to regain control of his wayward limbs.

He presses his mouth to her neck with a soft curse and a growl of her name followed by another word barely audible against her skin.

One word that makes her tremble, burying her nose against his neck nodding into his skin as her fingers wrap tighter around his arm and he's instantly grateful for her reaction; feels the tightness in his chest release…

Even though he didn't mean think it,

Let alone say it out loud…it's there now.

She lays still beneath him, breath warm against his skin. "We should go."

Glenn or Tyreese could come back at any moment.

"You alright?"

She nods, gracing him with a soft smile. "Yes, let's go find your knife."

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, :)

**Notes:** This is a long one! :P Big thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys are awesome!

updated: 2/27 fixed some typo/wordy issues; thanks to those who helped me find them! If you find anymore let me know! Thank you!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

I catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye as I'm sliding my pants up over my hips, feel my cheeks heat. Which is ridiculous, especially after last night…and this morning…_what he said…_

I shouldn't blush just because I can _feel_ him watching me. Somehow just his gaze moving up my bare legs still makes me shiver, reminds me of his fingertips sliding across my skin.

I turn my head watch him pull his shirt back on, distracted by muscles flexing and stretching over his chest and arms in the light of day. I have yet to really see him I realize; most of the visuals I have of him came from dreams; our encounters have always been in the dark 'til this morning and I was too distracted to really look.

But I know how that chest feels curled against me as I sleep, warm and safe…know exactly how it weight feels pressing down against me; tensing with each thrust of his hips. My body hums, still tingly and warm from my release.

I blush again jerk my eyes away when he looks up.

"Quit staring at me woman." He turns away, cheeks flushed to fidget and kick at the dirt around the long dead fire pit from the night before.

I drop my eyes to focus on my buckles, then take the time to roll up the sleeping bag, looping it's ties under my pack so I can carry it again. The muscles along my back and sides feel less strained today; still undeniably sore but simple movements no longer set my teeth on edge.

When I stand again I realize I'm tender in new places I wasn't before, it's a very different kind of ache, softer—strangely soothing somehow, remind me of his touch. It worlds different from the burning ache I anticipated roaring back full force, even after he got just a little rough this morning. I instantly want to make him do that again; feeling him simply react, loose that careful hesitation and let go of himself.

Tendrils of pleasure fizzle under my skin, make my stomach flutter just thinking about it.

"We could wait for a day, let the kids rest up."

That surprises me a bit; I'd have figured he'd want to get back to Rick and the others as quickly as possible. They have been pushing themselves awful hard…can't possibly keep that pace without a break. The trailer offers some protection from elements and Dead at least; it has walls, doors.

I circle the area we slept, inspecting the ground while he does that same. I find his knife first, crouch down to pick it up hold it out to him hilt first.

"We need to find transport if we can." Walking them all the way back to the others could take days; especially with the small children like Molly and Patrick. They can't keep moving at the same pace day after day. They won't have the strength.

My stomach rumbles.

And we need food.

"Feel like hunting?"

He looks up, nods. "Give me that, I'll tell Glenn to stay put."

I hand him my pack, follow him about two dozen feet closer to the house so I can watch him walk to the back door, rap on it softly before sliding it calling out to Glenn.

* * *

**::Walking Dead::**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

Tyreese is sitting at the table with Sasha when he raps on the glass door, pulls it open calls out for Glenn to join them.

Glenn pokes his head out from the hallway across the room, raises his hands in mock surrender when he sees Daryl.

"Hey, I was just teasing man, no big…"

"Shudup." He rushes on before Tyreese can ask; if he doesn't already know.

"We're going hunting. Keep an eye out for Walkers off the road. Keep the kids inside, noise down."

Tyreese nods. "Shouldn't be a problem, they're still passed out. Just checked them."

"How is she?" Sasha is watching him. He pauses not sure what she means exactly.

"She'll be fine, she isn't bit." Sasha slumps down in her seat, breathes a heavy sigh of relief before her face clouds over again, guilt taking over. "So the mark was from…" She doesn't say it looks down at the table top.

"That's great," Tyreese winces, "uh, I mean…"

"Yeah, I get it." He sets the bag against the wall, waves away Tyreese's slip. Eager to end this conversation before it shifts.

"Kids gotta eat, an' so do we. Be gone a few hours at most,"

"Daryl…"

He pauses, even though he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

"What happened on that farm? To Kevan, and Betsy and the others…you know don't you, but you won't say."

The urge to run out the back door fills him, but he can't do that. He owes them an explanation; he's just not sure how to give it. He calls her to the house this might take a while.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

_What the heck is taking so long?_

I'd go myself but he probably wouldn't take that too well.

I hear him call out to me from the open doorway. I hesitate a moment longer before walking across the cleared yard and up the steps to the small porch. Move to stand in the open doorway looking into the kitchen and dining area of the small trailer. They're all gathered there.

Well, the adults at least; the kids are somewhere else… at this hour probably still asleep.

I take in the expressions sitting at the table, my stomach knots.

_Ah, so we're going to do this now; okay._

I don't step inside, the toes of my boots click on top of the cheap metal ledge of the sliding glass door track. I lean my shoulder against the door frame, look at him just inside the door. Keep my eyes off the others, his back to the wall arms crossed over his chest, nervously fidgeting. Obviously not sure where to begin, what to say difficult conversations are not his forte.

The shadows against the wall make the bruising on his shoulder look darker, angrier.

He hasn't said one word about it, or given any hint that it bothers him at all; nevertheless it must hurt like Hell his skin is nearly black in some places.

"I'm glad you're okay," Sasha's voice is quiet, I glance at her not sure what to say, feel like I should make some acknowledgement.

"Yeah,"

"I'm Sasha Williams, This is my brother Tyreese."

"I'm Glenn Rhee."

Going back to Formal introductions? Okay, I guess that's as good a place as any to start when you don't know what to say. Even if three of the people in this room have seen me naked on one of the worst days of my life…I cringe try to cover it by looking down.

"Fin Chance."

"Sounds like a nickname, what's it short for?" Sasha seems to do most of the talking between the two of them, her voice is soft but steady.

"Seraphim,"

She blinks at me, must recognize the word. I shrug looking at the table top.

"My family was very devout…before…all this."

_I haven't prayed properly since that day at the church, finding their bodies…searching for Tobin's among the ruins…blood splattered on the walls, the pews…spilling out into the aisle…_

_I can still see it when I close my eyes, so I stare at the ceiling instead afraid to even blink, I can't stand to see their torn faces even if it's no longer real…_

A shudder rolls through me, Daryl shifts against the wall.

"Names with religious meaning where kind of a big tradition in my family."

I remember vividly helping pick the name for my little brother…sitting with Phil in his study for hours; my short eight year old legs swinging back and forth, spinning myself in his work chair while we read the old testament; The heavily worn book with its crinkly thin pages lined with gold fascinated me, it was like a nursery fable book for any other kid.

"That's an Angel right?" Tyreese is asking.

"Not just any Angel. A Seraph is one of the highest orders; messengers of God." Sasha answers before me, guess I'm not the only one that went to bible school.

"It means '_Fiery One'_ loosely translated…guess they picked it after they saw my hair."

No one speaks for a minute.

"Thank you."

My throat closes. I study the ugly linoleum patterned floor.

"Yeah, no problem."

"No, Really."

I don't look up.

"Thank you. You knew what they might do and you still came to help us."

I take a deep breath, nod staring at my boots, not sure I trust my voice yet.

"I feel like I should ask," Glenn pauses, he's looking a little green even for an Asian...

"Why didn't you eat when you were there?"

I shift my eyes to Daryl, he didn't mention that, but knowing what he did how could he eat there? His jaw tenses. He shoves his hands farther under his arms, eyes locked on his feet. After a few tense moments I say it for him.

"The Peacocks were Cannibals."

Sasha stares at her hands on the table, Tyreese shakes his head. "No, Man No."

"Kevan, Betsy..?"

Glenn is up out of his seat dry heaving into the kitchen sink.

"They'd have eaten you and Daryl, Glenn, Parts of Sasha…"

"Hell you Mean Parts?!" Tyreese is up out of his chair with a shout. Daryl's standing in front of me a second later; like Tyreese might attack me…maybe he would—I don't know him; he looks ready to attack someone.

Sasha has her hand on her brother's arm. No one speaks for a moment, the only sound Glenn's continued retching into the sink.

"They'd take her legs so she'd have no chance to escape, maybe her arms too; keep the parts they found…entertaining."

Sasha's chair crashes to the floor, she races to Glenn's side, retching in the sink while Glenn pats her back, still looking like he might be sick again.

Daryl's back tenses when Tyreese points his finger at us.

"Why didn't you tell us man?"

"I wanted to; I was trying to get us out of there! If I'd said something; then _What?_ Shoot out at the OK corral time? Like we'd walk away from that." They stare at each other across the table, I'm suddenly very grateful It's there; have a feeling if it wasn't they might be at each other's throats...

Daryl's voice is quieter when he continues. "I was try'n to get us out quietly…as many of us as I could—_Alive_."

"He's right, it would have been the Prison all over again, but on their turf, and out numbered…we'd all be dead." Sasha's voice from the sink seems to take the air out of Tyreese. He slumps back into his chair, face buried in his hands.

"You okay Man?" Daryl's looking at Glenn by the sink.

He gives us both a shallow nod, "yeah, I'm just never going to eat again…" he offers Sasha a paper towel for her mouth.

"So they were like Walkers, that's why we had to kill them." Tyreese curses, jerks around to face her. We all turn.

Lizzie is standing at the doorway to the hall; it must lead to whatever rooms the kids were sleeping in; we must have woken her up with the shouting; though it seems she's been listening to the conversation for longer than just the shouting bits to know that.

Something about her makes my skin crawl—and I don't think it's just because she tried to shoot me in the head.

Everyone just stares at her for a minute.

"Lizzie, sweetie," Sasha leave the kitchen, "Let's go check the others, Make sure everyone's okay."

"They're fine, I just left them. You're just trying to get rid of me; but I'm not a child."

Sasha stops just a few feet short of her, "No, none of you are, Why don't we get you cleaned up then; child or not this is still a private conversation. I don't know about you but I feel pretty grungy."

"Why are you all just waiting for her to get sick? How is that fair to anyone? You should just kill her already."

"Lizzie, She's not sick, because she wasn't bitten by a Walker." Sasha's voice is quiet, she's probably not comfortable mentioning my torture with me in the same room.

"If you believe that you're an idiot. You're all idiots." Lizzie spins around "I'm going back to my room."

Sasha watches her go stunned into silence. "Wow, if that's what teenagers are like I am glad I don't have any kids." She comes back into the kitchen. Daryl is still standing in front of me, though he's more to my right now—he shifted when Lizzie came out of the hallway so I can actually see Tyreese and Sasha sitting at the table.

I wonder if he even realizes he's been putting himself between me and whatever he perceives as the biggest threat in the room.

I ignore the stupid flutter that thought gives me to focus on the more important point: I'm not the only one who thinks Lizzie is a danger.

"Look this might be a problem bigger problem." Tyreese speaks up again, voice lowered. "When we were attacked at the prison Lizzie shot two of the people that had me pinned down—she probably saved my life…" he winces, shakes his head looks up at Daryl.

"But the girl didn't even flinch, shot one lady right between the eyes." He glances at me around Daryl's side. "She nearly killed you, there's something off about her…it's not just survival…she gets this look sometimes…" he shudders looks down at his hands on the table.

This world has a way of making people hard if they want to survive it. It sand blasts them with hardships and impossible situations till all but their most basic instincts and principles are left over…makes them choose over and over how far they'll go, how much humanity they can cling to. Morals, Ideals all have a way of sliding off; becoming inconvenient painful reminders of what we've all lost…it hurts to hold on to them; stings worse when you let them go. You let enough slide; take enough rides with the devil and pretty soon you'll let him drive and not even notice.

Kids like Mika and Molly, Carl and Lizzie; are almost blank slates in a harsh new world; what is right and wrong when you're just trying to survive in a cruel world? Where the monster's aren't under the bed anymore they're real and three times your size and think you look like a snack…

It's a tricky tight rope most adults fall off of from time to time; scramble to get back on—how the hell should we expect kids to navigate it with any success?

Kids like Mikka and Molly; who's first instinct is to run when they're in danger or cry are far more human than kids like Lizzie…

Lizzie is becoming a predator; playing loose and fast following a twisted rulebook that could quickly make her a nightmare to handle.

"Well I don't know what we can do about it until we can all talk about it together, I'm not comfortable making a decision like this." Glenn is still standing by the sink, but he keeps his voice low breaking into everyone's reflection.

I remember they use a council to decide issues and make decisions for the group…I wonder if one day they'll be arguing my fate…

"Well, until then I'm going to be out there." Away from Lizzie and the rest of them, even if it wasn't for Lizzie I don't know these people; I'd just started adjusting to Daryl's presence, to the idea of Rick and Carl's…Beth's…There are more people in my life now then I've known in years.

"It's not safe out there by yourself…" Glenn starts.

"She won't be alone." Glenn's mouth snaps shut over whatever he was about to say.

Daryl isn't looking at him, or anyone actually. He's staring down the ugly rooster wallpaper opposite him, shifts uncomfortably with everyone's eyes on him.

"We should go. We're wasting daylight." And my stomach is still growling twisting in knots that at the moment at least have nothing to do with Lizzie or Daryl. I turn away from the open doorway head down off the porch. He follows me shortly after.

We walk for a while, put some distance between us and the trailer, away from the road.

"Going to be tricky." I don't think he's talking about hunting.

I don't respond, wait to see if he'll talk it out on his own; give me some idea of what he's thinking instead of clamming up.

"Rick sent Carol away about two weeks back, it was just before the Prison got attacked, He said it was because she told him she killed two of our own—part of our group that had gotten sick. But that doesn't sit with me." He holds a branch back for me to walk around. "It didn't then, and it don't now."

"Is Carol Lizzie's mom?" He's never mentioned her before this, no one has; not that there's been a lot of time for trips down memory lane.

He frowns down at me, "No, Carol's daughter Sophia died last year."

I stop cold, something about that name, the way he says it tugs at me…

"What's wrong?" I shake my head, "Nothing, so why would Carol cover for Lizzie?"

He pauses, stares at me like my saying it out loud just made it real for him.

"Shit. She's been taking care of Lizzie and Mikka…if Lizzie did it…"

I shoot him a look, I don't know this Carol—but I'd bet my imaginary farm that it was Lizzie not her if people ended up dead in their group. He keeps talking.

"..then Carol would cover for her—one of the ladies killed—Tyreese was sort of…dating her I guess you'd say. He didn't take it so well, Rick an him came to blows over it, hell I got in it too…That's why Rick told Carol to go; thought Tyreese would kill her…didn't realize it was the damn kid the whole time…he should have. Killing two sick people. That aint her way."

I mull that over, my brain circling over the thought of Tyreese 'sort of' dating someone…where did people go on dates these days? The idea is ridiculous and obsolete... people don't _date_ anymore.

They either like each other enough to do something about it…or they don't.

What's a date after the apocalypse? I glance at him then look back down at the ground, watching where I place my boots; trying to be silent thoughts spinning round my head…

Does a hunting trip alone count as a date? How about a rescue mission for days in the forest… _oh boy, better to get off that subject_.

I focus on the 'Lizzie Issue'…several things about the Carol situation bothers me, feels wrong…

"So, Rick sent Carol away, alone. And she doesn't tell him before that point that it was really Lizzie?"

That seems incredibly stupid to me—loyal? Yes, but loyalty to what, to whom?

She had to know that Lizzie would kill again, that she couldn't protect her; or stop her…unless she's just deluding herself—couldn't see it for what it was.

Daryl's mouth is a hardline. He stops walking, I pause looking up at him. He looks away from me, something else clicks; stings when it does, something I won't analyze.

"Carol; She was your friend?"

He blinks, nods after a few tense moments.

_More than friends? I'm not sure now. _Feel my cheeks heat.

"Yes, she was my friend." He says it in a rush, like its painful; uncomfortable, not something he's never said out loud—Hell that's probably true. He's probably had few friends in his life he counted on.

He doesn't seem overly chummy with most of the group; Functional yes, but not completely comfortable with interactions beyond the basics of day to day interactions.

I'd say he seems closest to Rick out of all of them; and that's come off as more an allegiance, an obligation, it has a working partnership and respect feel to it more than a 'close friendship' vibe.

I don't doubt he cares for the members of his group; they're his only version of a family. I just don't think he spends much time thinking about it or talking about it out loud.

Probably has a lot to do with the flinching he does when he forgets to control it.

He's been silently staring off into the woods. "She's a good person." His voice is quiet. I notice he doesn't use the past tense.

"I'm sorry she went away." Especially for something like this, it obviously bothers him that she's gone.

We start walking again.

"Maybe we can go back out and find her after we take the others back?" My heart is in my throat even as I suggest it.

_What if he wants to look alone? _

_What if she comes back and they're more then 'friends'?_

I have no right to feel sick, I don't even know how long I can keep up this charade before it all falls apart, I might be gone in a day, a week…

"She wasn't at the prison when it all went down; she had a better chance of survival on the road alone than in that death trap."

He's quiet for a while. Didn't really answer my question. Maybe it's time to change the subject before we're both more uncomfortable. Something Carl mentioned comes back to me.

"Did they really have a tank?"

He glances at me, "Carl tell you?"

"Yup."

"Yeah, they had a fuckin tank, till I blew it up with a grenade."

"Where the Hell did you get a grenade?"

His mouth quirks, "Long story,"

"Some other time then," He nods and I stupidly feel better, lighter. Pretending there's going to be more time than what we have right now is foolish.

"So you killed a tank, and yet a girl too young for a training bra has got us all locked in a stalemate."

Morals…right and wrong…it's all a fucked up mess.

We don't speak for several minutes.

"Look I'm just going to say this once." He visibly tenses, glances at me.

"I've seen this before. Though not this young…Lizzie's killed two people right in front of Tyreese; and you could chalk that up to survival, but we can be pretty damn certain she killed those other two from your group long before it was necessary, and that Carol covered it up. She shot and threatened me. Most adults feel something when they end a life, it's what keeps us human. I get the feeling Lizzie's feeling something when she pulls that trigger and it _isn't_ regret. Looks to me like she can't wait to feel it again."

This world has put a girl who would probably have been a cruel bully and tactless self-centered adult on the fast track to being a pre-pubescent serial killer.

"Yeah," He takes a deep breath, started to relax while I was talking, maybe he thought I was going to bring up something else?

"But she's twelve."

"If she was twenty would it make a difference, really?" This is a no-win-scenario, no matter the age she is; it's going to turn into a complete shit show.

"We can't leave her, can't shoot her." He pauses, looks up at the sky taking a calming breath.

"I know, I can't believe half the conversations I've been forced to have the last few years either." Some of them more than others…

"So we watch her closely, keep you separate 'til she realizes you're fine. And we hope being with a group in a stable environment will even her out."

I give him a look but bite my tongue. Somehow I don't think that governor guy would have been a teddy bear after the apocalypse no matter how many warm fuzzies people covered him with.

When the shit hits the fan Lizzie will be stripped down to exactly what she is inside.

It's her basic coding; base instincts—she's a little monster that will probably grow into an even bigger one because we're all too human to do something about it.

No one wants to take that step—talk about it even…we're clinging to that tight rope again.

Rick sent Carol away though—maybe he will do it, make the decision to send her away too. A thought occurs to me.

"Do you think Carol is looking for Lizzie and Mikka still?"

He halts. "What?"

"Well you said Carol was caring for them; she obviously lied to protect Lizzie from the rest of the group-took the blame for something terrible she'd never do herself…seems to me if I went that far to protect someone I wouldn't stop just because I got sent away, not after that kind of commitment."

He's still looking at me when I turn back to him, his eyes slide away to the trees.

"We going to hunt or stand around?"

My stomach rumbles so loud I think we both can hear it. "Hunt. I think we should split up." He glances back at me looks like he wants to say something then changes his mind.

"Be careful."

Yeah, this is the safest I've been all day, away from everyone else.

"You too."

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Not mine :)**

**Notes:** It's two hours into Sunday (for me,) so I thought I'd put out another chapter to celebrate Walking Dead Sunday! Yay! :) Thanks to all the reviews, and readers you guys are awesome! I am grateful for everyone's responses! :)

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

It's several hours before I circle back; I'm not sure if he's still out there…but I know there's no Walkers in the area; not anymore I took down the only two within miles. Made a B line for them the second we split up so they couldn't possibly be a problem.

I wasn't worried about Daryl so much as them possibly finding the others; just in case Sasha or the kids go outside while we're gone.

One Walker or two always seems to draw more; I'm still not sure how that works…it's like bees or ants…somehow they follow each other, know without really showing anything beyond the most basic functions…

Maybe that's how I know when they're there…the thought makes my skin itch.

I rap on the back door Sasha answers it quickly pulls it open and smiles at me steps back, "Come in, come in…"

I take the flannel in my hand and set it in the sink, Molly and Mikka run up to see what I have. "Is that Ed-able?"

"I think you mean edible, Molly; and yes I think it is." Sasha glances at me and I nod.

"Thought you might want something other than meat…" Sasha mouths a soft thank you over the kid's heads.

Glenn wanders in from the door on the right side of the living room, across the from the hallway…probably the master bedroom, these things are usually split plans. His hair is wet, and he's wearing a different t-shirt then before…different pants too I think. He sees me looking waves his hand toward the room.

"The water still works, not much probably whatever's left in the well pipe with no power to turn the pump on once it's gone it's gone...Anyways; We filled the bath tubs. It's cold; but it's nice to be clean. There's clothing in the dresser in there too; it's guys stuff probably too big on you…" He glances at Daryl's shirt in my hand…I haven't put it back on yet from carrying the berries.

"Thanks." I'm going outside though, not going to want wet hair out there. The temperature has dropped again, and it's clouded over in the last hour.

"How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?" Sasha leans closer to me when the kids take several handfuls of berries to the table to eat, Glenn starts eating them too.

"I wasn't bit."

"That's not what I meant…I meant you…are _you_ doing okay…is there anything I can do?"

I shake my head. "Uh, no. I'm fine." I start to head towards the backdoor. I can see Lizzie sitting with Tyreese in the living room; he's flipping through some kind of magazine he's found…she's just…sitting.

"Where are you going?" Sasha steps forward.

"I'm going back out."

"Please don't… at least get cleaned up, rest till Daryl gets back?"

I stand at the glass doors looking out. "Please, I'll sit in front of the door; Hell I'll make Tyreese do it; no one's getting past him."

I sigh. I am filthy. That's one nice thing about having a home, you get to do simple things like clean up, brush your teeth, change clothes…

Things that make you feel human again.

"Take some time to yourself, please…we all owe you so much." I turn to look at her, see Glenn look down at the table again.

"Okay."

I head into the back room, it's is a master bedroom just as I suspected.

I search the low boy dresser in the corner, find a clean shirt that's plain, set it aside search a second drawer and find a package of those white men's tank tops I set it on top of the dresser, rip it open and pull one out. I take it with me through the other door in the room.

The bathroom is illuminated from outside by one of those skylight windows high above the tub; which is filled with water just like Glenn said. There's also a plastic bowl on the side of the tub, and a stack of wash clothes and towels someone—probably Glenn pulled them out and left them on the counter for everyone.

I walk to the mirror, lean against the cabinet and stare at my reflection for a moment.

I do look like Hell. The dirt on my face makes my eyes look extra bright. I grab one of the washcloths, wet it and start to wash the layer of dirt off my face…_yeah that's not good enough…not even close…_

I search through the glass shower find bottles of shampoo; and conditioner; some off-brand; but it's better than nothing…I pull my hair down, comb my fingers through it till it's relatively straightened out.

I strip out of my filthy clothes; all of them…dunk them in the plastic bowl one at a time, working shampoo through them and rinsing them with fresh water, ringing them out and hanging them over the shower wall to dry. Then I take the water and dump it over my head; it's probably still cleaner than me.

It's damn cold though, I sputter for a second. Grab the shampoo dump some into my hand and work it through my hair, work that lather down my neck, my arms, scrub at my hands…my legs are probably the cleanest things I own right now. I snort with laughter. Have to tip toe carefully with my slick feet out of the shower and grab another plastic bowl of water take it back to the shower and realize this is going to take forever…I twist the nob on the shower, feel the pipe hiss and water spits out; I jump under the spray quickly scrubbing and lathering in the teeth chattering cold.

I dump about half the bottle of conditioner into my hair; work it through with my fingers while it's slick getting all the knots out I can.

I take a second to scrub my other parts down…especially after last night…and this morning. I turn the water off with a jerk, goose bumps across every inch of my skin teeth knocking together.

I walk back across the room; grab one of the towels catching my reflection in the mirror again…it's been a long time since I've seen my reflection like this…I'm thinner then I remember being before, I still have curves; but the most noticeable ones are the muscles on my arms; the tight flare of my waist above slender hips.

I probably need to eat more.

I run the towel over my skin, dry my hair as much as I can, search through the drawers in the cabinet and find scissors, tooth paste, and….red nail polish.

It's so ridiculous it's the first thing I grab.

I sit on the end of the tub, painting every one of my toes bright red, waiting to warm up from my freezing cold shower. I stand back at the counter, grab the scissors again, pull my hair into one hand and cut several inches off of it, turn to check in the mirror; pull little bits forward from each side making it as even as I can behind my own back…not that it really matters since it's always up anyway…but it was getting almost too long to knot the way I like to.

Last I take the tooth paste; grab the toothbrush off the counter, make a face at it, then grab the shampoo scrub it for a few minutes and then rinse it before squeezing toothpaste across it scrubbing my teeth for several minutes staring up at the light from the window; watching the clouds roll across the sky.

After I rinse my mouth I pull the clean tank top on, it's kind of see through it's so thin…but it's long enough to slide just over my hips; hell I think in college I saw girls go out in dresses to clubs that were shorter than this…such a different world from the one I live in now…

I stare at myself in the mirror again, can't think of anything else to do. I walk back into the bedroom; lay down on the bed, I just want to rest my eyes for a second…warm up till Daryl gets back and we can go out; away from the others.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

He's back in the yard finally, pokes his head inside to find Glenn and the kids eating berries at the table.

"She here?" He half expected to find her in the yard waiting for him.

"She's getting cleaned up," He steps inside; finds Sasha sitting with her back against the bedroom door. She smiles at him. "She's okay." Tyreese nods to him when he turns back around; he's sitting next to Lizzie on the couch.

"You want some help?" He nods and Glenn gets up follows him back into the yard, helps him gather wood for a fire outside so they can cook what he brought back. He brings a pan out for Daryl to use, helps him carry everything inside so Tyreese and Lizzie can eat, with him; Glenn sticks to the berries, Sasha too.

He makes a plate, takes it into the bedroom nodding to Sasha.

Stops just inside the door; she's passed out on the bed. He pokes his head back out the door motions for Sasha to come closer; "She's asleep…"

"Then don't wake her just stay in there tonight; we'll sleep out here, watch the door."

He nods, he was just going to suggest she keep an eye out while he got cleaned up, just until he can get her outside again. But she needs the rest. He shuts the door again quietly.

Moves closer to the bed to set the plate on the side table next to the bed. Watches her for a moment pale skin, her hair is loose-damp on the pillow; spilled out behind her. He touches it; the ends are cut she must have just done it; looks like several inches are missing.

He moves to the dresser, finds the undershirts on top, grabs one before opening another drawer as quietly as he can glancing over his shoulder to make sure she's still asleep…he sifts through the contents till he finds jeans, checks the size; they're a bit too big but they'll work.

He gets up moves to the bathroom, shuts the door quietly behind him.

Stops when he sees the red gold strands on the floor. He crouches down, sweeps them up with his fingers, straightening them in his hands. He opens the drawers sifting through the contents finds a couple rubber bands loops one around the end of her hair, braids it in his fingers and ties it off with another at the end. He stares at it in his palm for a minute before setting it on the counter next to a small red bottle. He picks it up, flips it over.

Hell is 'Hooker Red'? He frowns, sets it back down and strips out of his filthy clothes. Rinses them and hangs them next to hers.

He gives the knob an experimental twist in the shower surprised when water kicks out of the spout. He washes, picks up the shampoo bottle off the floor and soaps himself head to toe. Rinses quickly and turns the water back off stepping out onto the floor. He uses one of the towels to dry himself, pulls the jeans on with nothing else since his clothes are wet.

His flannel is hanging over the top of the shower, she washed it with her things…he raises his hand to the lace hanging over the door frame pulls his fingers back.

He opens the door to the bedroom, halts in the doorway to find her sitting up in the bed, the plate he brought in her lap; empty.

"Thought you were asleep."

"I was,"

He walks to the end of the bed, her shirt is damn near see-through, he swallows. "You want more to eat?" She shakes her head. Sets the plate on the night stand, gets up on her knees and moves to the end of the mattress…and _Jesus if she's not wearing anything but that shirt. _

His heart rate picks up, his hands are on her waist; but he doesn't remember making the conscious effort to move them. She's almost the same height as he is this way, presses her lips to his, warm and soft after his cold shower.

She pulls back after a moment, leans back into him, presses her body against his cool skin, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He tilts his head lets his tongue slide over her bottom lip 'til she lets him in, cups the back of her head swallowing her moan.

Her fingers slide down his chest, fumble with the button on his borrowed jeans he stills her hand. "That's not why I came in here."

"Is something wrong?" Her big green eyes are searching his face, she relaxes after a moment. "Just think you should rest,"

She blinks up at him, and God, if he doesn't know that look by now….she's pulling his lips down to hers, not that he's fighting her at all, just the opposite when his fingers slide over that thin shirt.

"I'm not tired _yet_."

* * *

**_:: Walking Dead ::_**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: **Daryl is not mine. Saddness! :(

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

_(Fin's POV)_

My mouth nearly drops open when he walks out of the bathroom. The black jeans he must have salvaged from the dresser are big enough that they've slid down his hips, barely staying up giving me a fantastic view of almost every muscle in his abdomen.

"Thought you were asleep." His voice is low, quiet.

"I was," I watch him walk to the end of the bed, eyes roaming over my borrowed shirt.

"You want more to eat?"

I shake my head. I ate in the woods too. A lot of the same berries I picked to bring back to the others. I set the plate on the night stand, lean forward up onto my knees, he swallows when the blankets fall off my lap leaving my legs bare. He breathes faster when I walk on my knees to the end of the mattress, this close I can watch his eyes shift to a deeper blue.

His hands slide up to encircle my waist; I lean into him press my lips to his, they're cool under my touch, but they warm up quickly.

I pull back after a while. Scoot closer to the end of the bed to press my chest against his cool skin. I wind my arms around his shoulders holding him close; shiver when his thumbs slide over my hipbones drawing the shirt higher against my ribs.

He tilts his head the short distance between us; thanks to the height of the mattress we nearly match. He lets his tongue slide over my bottom lip. I open my mouth to him, one of his hands cups the back of my head, loops his fingers through the loose strands spilling over his hands.

I moan feeling him twist his fingers through my hair, giving him leverage to tilt my chin; his tongue slipping over mine.

My fingers slide down his chest, 'til I'm fumbling with the button on his borrowed jeans, though I honestly might be able to tug them off even without bothering with it.

Daryl stills against me, breath warm against my lips, "That's not why I came in here."

"Is something wrong?" I search his face, I'd have thought he'd have told me right away if it was…

I didn't hear anything earlier…he looks calm though...just his thumb on one hand still sliding lazy circles against my skin now where the shirt has bunched above my hips. His fingers slip through my hair.

"Just think you should rest,"

I look up at him. His eyes have gone to that dark stormy blue grey… my pulse races, my insides tighten and God, the last thing I want to do is rest with him looking at me like that. I watch him swallow his eyes darting down to my waist.

I pull his lips down to mine, it doesn't take much effort. He practically falls into me, his fingers slide up over the thin material of my tee pushing it higher on my ribs, letting his palm smooth over more skin.

"But, I'm not tired _yet_."

He groans, mumbles something back against my mouth I lean away for a second for him to repeat it. His hand slides through my hair, smooth's it back from my face. "You sure you wanna do this here?"

_Where wouldn't I want to do this…?_

I bite my lip, grin up at him my hands popping open the top button on his jeans in answer.

"Think _you_ can be quiet?" This place has pretty thin walls. He draws a tight breath.

"Shit me?" He leans into me, mouth pressed to my ear sending a shiver all the way to my toes. "Can you?" His tongue traces around my ear, teeth nipping at the soft skin there making me gasp_. _

I do love a challenge.

I tug the material at his hips, popping the other buttons loose, push the jeans down over his hips carefully. We both inhale sharply when he's pressed against my stomach. I wrap my arms tighter around him, his hands slide to my back when he pulls me closer I wrap my legs around his waist, drape myself around him.

His fingers dig into my skin his teeth nip at my bottom lip, I moan his name, slide my fingers through his wet hair, cold strands against my fingers chilling my skin, the rest of him is warming up nicely though.

He turns and sits on the mattress, so I'm on his lap. His hands grasping the hem of my thin excuse of a shirt, pulling it over my head without any hesitation…his mouth drops to my neck, slides to my shoulder. His hands press against my back, keeping me skin to skin with him while he breathes me in, fingers tugging my head back with my hair so he can explore my neck better, I'd lean away from him…give him more room to work if he didn't have me trapped against him with his other arm.

I hum in approval, run my hands up his arms. I want him to touch more, want to touch all of him…

I wrap my arms around his shoulders twist onto my back taking him with me onto the bed; his arm comes up bracing his weight above my chest for a moment. Before moving to my knees, still wrapped around his waist.

He pulls them away, presses my heels flat to the mattress, the look he gives me for just a the briefest of moments before dropping his mouth to my breast sends sparks dancing down my spine, a flood of heat to my already slick folds.

My back arches off the bed when his hot mouth closes over me. His now warm palm covering my other breast, thumb and forefinger moving over me hesitantly at first, slowly; the movements get bolder as my gasps turn into soft moans of his name. My fingers are buried in his hair, directing him from one side; to the other shaking under him when he dips lower, tongue circling my belly button making me jump.

_Jesus,_ my hips roll unconsciously toward him when his teeth and lips and tongue slide lower, press the softest of caresses against first one hipbone, then the other, his tongue sliding between the two making me shudder and buck towards him.

He pauses, cheek pressed to my thigh breath tickling my skin.

I swallow; shivering and blinking up at the ceiling nerves fluttering in my stomach at where this is going. "You don't have to…"

His face presses tighter against my leg when I speak. I gasp feeling his teeth for a moment just before his lips press to the same space soothing the small sting…

_"I've never…done this before…" _His voice is a harsh whisper, low and tight it tickles against sensitive skin.

I shiver, every nerve I own already tingling. "Me either…" my stomach flips under my ribs when his mouth moves down my thigh…inching closer… making me curse, my hips jerk.

I can feel myself blushing; I know he's looking at me even before I drop my gaze. He hides his face against my skin again for a moment; I swear I can feel the matching heat from his flushed cheeks against my skin before he dips his head presses his mouth to me and my hips buck and I'm staring up at the ceiling….or I would be if I didn't have my eyes squeezed shut trying to keep it together…

_Shit, shit shit…holy….fuck._

_Never? _

_Oh God._

His tongue moves against me, fingers pressing to my skin, holding my hips against his mouth, tightening with a maddening grip that makes me twitch and gasp his name each time I buck under his mouth.

"Yes?"

I'm nodding furiously in answer, eyes still clenched shut impossible to keep them open... I can't look down and see him like that and keep myself under control. My hands twist in the sheets under my hips, cursing again when he seals his mouth over me tongue circling me and_…Oh God…oh…_

His hands lock around my hips, keeping me pinned to the mattress while I buck against his mouth, shuddering and gasping his name.

He doesn't pause to let me recover; mouth moves up my abdomen instead. His tongue darting into my navel once more making me jump, shake with soft nervous laughter. He moves up my body, 'til I can wrap my hand around the back of his neck pull him down to me again. Sigh against his mouth when his arm creeps under my back lifting me up to his kiss.

He twists, rolling us until I'm over him, he groans against my lips when I press my hips back into him. I sit up, wrap my hand around him watch his eyes slip shut, head tilt back.

His back arches off the mattress when I slide my heat across his head, part my folds and rock back against him. I have to stop for a moment, collect myself muscles stretching and clenching in delicious spasms that tingle my fingertips make the room spin.

His fingers on my hips are strong enough to bruise, his breaths harsh and uneven. He tilts his head forward, dips his chin to watch his hand slide up my thigh, palm pressed to the smooth skin between my hipbones, his hips jerking up off the bed as his hand presses me back onto him, 'til he's there, so deep he can feel himself pressed inside me his stomach muscles quiver, hips thrust up off the bed rocking me so far forward I have to press my hands to his shoulders to keep my balance.

The quick movement sends pleasure rocketing up my spine, dancing along my nerves. My head tips back 'til all I can see is the ceiling overhead. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the feel of him sliding inside me. Every sharp twist of his hips, jerking up to fill me sends tiny stars and sparks dancing behind my eyes. His fingers press into my waist, pulling me down tighter, faster with each thrust, I rock my hips back-press into him and it's not enough; not nearly close enough.

I brace myself against his chest, roll my hips against him bite my lip when the friction makes him groan my name; bucking his hips under mine.

I shiver, heat sliding down my spine with the next wave and he jerks up off the mattress, pushes me back till I'm sitting straddled over him. His hands frame my face, push my loose hair back behind my neck so his lips can press to my skin, trail up my neck, nip at my shoulder. His hand wraps around my back, pressed flat to my shoulder blade holding me to his chest, face inches from mine while he twists, rolls his hips and flips to our previous position.

Careful hands gently pull my hair up so I'm not laying on it, cup the back of my neck for a moment, slide over my collar before sliding under me holding me against the next roll of his hips.

I voice my approval, tilt my hips up to him gasp when he thrusts forward suddenly bringing my brain to a shrieking halt.

_Holy._

_Crap._

It must show on my face; or maybe I spoke out loud I don't know don't care because he's doing it again

_…and holy fuck. _

_God just like that. _

I open my eyes and he's right there, deep fathomless blue eyes watching me bite my lip, groan his name…beg him to do that again, faster this time, harder 'til I can't catch my breath…can't separate one tilt of his hips from the next because it's just endless spiraling swirling_…oh god._

I roll my hips up to match him, wrap my legs higher around his waist tightening my grip trying to pull him impossibly deeper, tighter with each pump. I'm gasping his name, twisting and arching up to each slide of his hips. My hands encircling his wrists now pinned to the bed over my shoulders, brace myself against his arms, holding him over me while he closes his eyes tight and pants my name and my nails are probably marking his skin and_ Jesus I don't care because he's got to do that again; just like that…_

My eyes shut tight against all but the sensation burning its way like a wildfire up my spine. It's lighting every nerve in its path on fire 'til the pleasure races along every limb till my toes curl and my fingers tingle and I bite my lip and turn my head into his wrist to muffle my cry and roll my hips one more time before it slams through me, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I'm powerless to do anything but buck, and writhe and curse and fist my hand through his hair jerking his mouth down to me. But he's the one nipping my lip and plundering my mouth and thrusting into me sending each fantastic fucking wave that sears through me deeper and deeper; spiraling higher, tighter till I go boneless beneath him hips trembling, arms shaking, pulse thundering so loud even he's got to hear it.

My fingers spasm around his wrist, push his arms out so he can't brace his weight; so he falls chest pressed against me, whole body; skin to skin. While I gasp, and sigh and tremble and nibble on that incredible fucking mouth that's still teasing my lips.

His head drops to my shoulder, lips pressed to my skin while he takes slow calming breaths, and it takes me a moment to find myself…focus enough to recognize the feel him still achingly hard and throbbing unfinished inside me while I flutter, and tremor around him….

He didn't…

I frown against his hair even more so when I roll my hips against his and he curses; obviously close…right at the edge. He seizes my waist and pins me down; holding me still.

"What's wrong?"

His hand moves up to frame one side of my face, pressing me close to his neck, his breath still tickling my ear with each ragged exhale. "I can't…"

He stops draws a deep shuddering breath against my neck voice barely audible when he continues. "We don't have any condoms…"

_Oh._

I swear I can feel him blush even hidden as he is against my skin. I could almost laugh.

_Why the hell he'd think of that now of all things? _

I slide my hands down his forearm press my hand over his cupped against my cheek, twist my chin to press a kiss to the soft skin next to his thumb while he exhales against me again.

"Daryl," I turn my nose against his chin, his rough cheek tickles and scratches against my neck while I whisper "I think that ships kinda sailed…"

_…Shit this is the fourth time? _

_A little late for that party trick…_

He tenses, shakes his head against me with a rough jerk.

"Rick's wife died because she got pregnant. I shouldn't have taken the risk before, wasn't fuckin thinking…too dangerous to risk you like this…"

_Oh._ I pause for a moment, open my eyes to stare at him; even if he won't look at me, keeps his face hidden against my neck.

"I'm fine, I still have an implant in my arm from college…I don't have to worry about that for another year."

I was lucky I had it last year. The first time I'd ever needed to depend on it… it was one less thing to worry about after I was raped; trying to recover from that night was hard enough without anything else thrown on top…

I didn't even think about it with Daryl, honestly forgot to even consider that until he mentioned it…

He still doesn't move, I bite my lip, take a deep breath.

"Look the world doesn't work like that anymore, if something happens you're not obligated to stay."

_And that was obviously the wrong answer._

He jerks back with a snarl, glares at me so hard I actually press back into the mattress heart pounding in my ears.

_"_I am_ Not My Father; _or my Asshole brother…I don't run from my responsibilities."

I wait while he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, relaxes back against me, his nose pressed to my ear again, fingers against my cheek.

"I always thought maybe I might have kids one day; be the man they couldn't be…but every time Rick holds Judith I can _see it_ on his face…_every time_…he looks at his daughter and has to think about losing his wife…and fuck; they weren't even getting along when it happened…" His fingers tighten against my face, press my cheek tighter to his.

"That's not going to happen though, I'm safe right now…it's okay, we can worry about that later."

His fingers tremble against my cheek, his breath presses to my skin. I barely hear the words tumble out. _"I can't lose you…not like that."_

"I'm not going anywhere 'til you tell me to."

_Cause that's a far more likely scenario than any other…history that repeats itself for me over and over; he'll learn what I am and leave me….if he doesn't put a bullet in my head first... _

I shudder.

His hands tighten on me again."No, I'm an idiot…I'll say something stupid; or get it wrong, and you'll leave…"

I shake my head against his neck in denial until his whisper reaches my ears.

_"Stay…" _

I freeze, breath catching in my chest, twisting around the knots. I tighten my arms around his shoulders, press myself against him as tight as I can trembling.

_"_Please, just_ stay." I_t's so quiet against my skin, just like before; like a prayer...like he never meant to say it out loud...I'm nodding into his neck again just like the other night, clinging to him like he can stop me from drowning; keep this from falling apart somehow.

"I promise…just please; I need you…" He shudders with my words arms tightening around me.

I slide my fingers through his hair, turn my head to find his ear, flick my tongue out to trace its edge, feel him shudder. I press my lips to his neck whisper into his ear; beg him to make me forget everything but him. I arch my back, jerk my hips against his and pull his earlobe between my teeth. I feel him react instantly…it rolls through him hard.

His hand under my head still twisted in my hair tightens, lifts me up so I'm almost curled around his shoulder, cradled to his chest. I slip my arms around his back fingernails tracing down his skin, trailing back up his spine while he bucks and shudders breathing harsh against the sheets where his forehead and arm are pressed to the mattress bracing his weight so he can roll his hips, each thrust nearly pushing me up the mattress except for his hand bracing me, holding me close. I arch and rock against him whisper in his ear.

"Fuck me harder, please…"

I have to bite my lip to keep quiet, stifle the scream that wants to bubble up out of my chest with each rush that's so god damn good…I roll my hips, drop my feet to the mattress and jerk my hips off the bed into his next thrust feel his whole body shudder, tremor pressed against mine while he curses, and growls my name punctuated with each harsh jab of his hips sending me spinning off into technicolor sparks of red, and black, and white hot pleasure rolling up my spine.

It seizes all thought, narrowing my vision 'til my eyes slip shut and I bury my face in his neck begging him not to stop, and then I come apart completely feel him jerk and buck following right behind me with a shout that wasn't quiet at all and I could give a god damn because _holy fuck…_

I can feel every pulsing throb of his cock still buried all the way to his base, deep inside me as he grunts my name and slams into me one last time…before shuddering to a stop, dropping against me boneless and shaking.

We just lay there gasping for air, my fingers trembling as I try to slide them soothingly over his back.

I give up and let them just drop boneless to the mattress beside us. Try to blink the wall back into focus for a few moments before I give that endeavor up too and just close my eyes and float for a while on little aftershocks of pleasure.

His lips pressing against my neck slowly bring me back, his breath tickling my ear and I turn my head, let my eyes slip shut again and just focus on my pounding pulse and my out of control breathing and his fingers sliding so gently over my temple, tracing down my face making my breath catch again, and my chest ache for completely different reasons.

"You okay?" He's whispering still.

I nod, can't form words right now, can barely grasp a coherent thought. Pleasure is still tingling along my limbs, curling in my center making me blush and gasp. Then he's sliding off of me. I don't open my eyes though, don't need to when I can feel him flopping down to the bed beside me, rolling onto his back.

I turn, curl against his shoulder, feel his arm wrap around my back, fingers framing my head for a moment, he lifts his head lips press to my forehead.

I lay still listening to his heart beat race under my ear, and his breath rush out until I fall asleep.

* * *

**:: walking dead ::**

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: **AMC owns this version of the Walking Dead characters. I have created Fin, so she's mine but I'd let them borrow her as long as they'd play nice… :P

**Notes:** I made some edits to Chapter 34, found some WTF typos and ended up totally re-hauling a couple of sentences so it's the same idea…but I think it's worded better. Just in case someone read it when it was posted and was bothered by the uh-ohs…

I think I caught them all! But as always if you find any more of them; let me know and I will try to fix them ASAP! :D

Big thanks to all the readers and reviewers!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

_There's a loud bang from the front room. _

_My heart leaps into my throat. I slap my hand over my mouth terrified that whoever has just come in the front room will hear me breathing. Sit with my back against the wall too terrified to move, my whole body shaking the still functioning part of my brain screaming at me._

_Move! Come on, get up! Get the Hell out of here before they find you!_

_I get up slowly, fingers pressed against the wall behind me trying to keep my balance. My legs shake, ache and burn in protest; exhausted from running the last two days almost non-stop trying to get as far away from the city as possible._

_I finally find a place in the middle of no-where to rest, an abandoned desolate farm house and someone still finds me..._

_I peer around the doorway at only one man standing in the front room, his back is to me, the light in here sucks but I can make out a sleeveless shirt, dark pants some kind of knife on his belt…He's holding something in front of him…a rifle…no…a crossbow?_

_Great and all I have is a pocket knife._

_I put my back to the wall, try to even out my breathing. Slowly get up and move towards the other doorway, away from the front room. _

_A board creaks under my mud caked tennis shoe and I freeze listening so hard for the sound of footsteps coming closer I feel like my hearts going to pound right out of my chest._

_I move again when I don't hear anything, cross the room faster this time, have to jerk back when I see him in the kitchen this time… _

_Fuck! This guy is quiet…_

_He's opening the pantry door; looking at where I slept the last two nights curled into the smallest ball I could manage terrified something would find me…_

_I watch him picking up the empty can of tuna I ate the night before….he sniffs it…which I probably should have done myself…I was so hungry I didn't care; till I threw it up not twenty minutes after I ate it…_

_Though that could have been because it's the first thing I've eaten in about 72 hours…_

_I close my eyes press my back against the wall, waiting for him to move on._

_I just need someplace safe; someplace away from live people and dead people and…_

_He's moving out the back door I jump, heart hammering when he shouts. _

"_Sophia!"_

_He keeps shouting for her for a few minutes._

"_Sophia! Sophia!"_

_He's looking for someone specific then…_

_I move against the wall peering out under the filthy sheet over the broken window 'til he slips back into the woods._

_I slide down the wall to sit on the dust and grime coated floor wrap my arms around my knees and press my cheek to my leg eyes closed tight waiting for my racing heartbeat to calm down._

_Who ever got lost is lucky_

_There isn't anybody left to look for me._

* * *

I open my eyes to piercing sunlight.

…very different sunlight then I fell asleep to….this is so much brighter, harsher. The kind of light you get on one of those clear cold days; the kind of harsh light that makes the sun seems closer. It's nearly blinding even through the window. I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision.

I sit up slowly trying not to wake him. Then just sit staring down at him for a minute watching his soft even breathing, still fast asleep.

I've forgotten most of those days immediately after Abby…after my first group fell apart. Most of it was not worth remembering; I think I tried as hard as I could to forget it…wandering alone, no idea what to do with myself…terrified someone else would find me, not sure what they might do if they did… Most of it is nothing but a blur of endless hunger, fear and exhaustion.

But I'm positive it was him; even if his hair was way shorter then…

He said Carol's daughter Sophia died, he was out there looking for her…What would have happened if I'd come out? Would he have taken me with him back to Rick and the others? Could I have found a place among them even back then? I had no way of knowing what kind of person he was…Fear about what he might do to me kept me quiet.

If I'd taken the chance then I'd have never run into that other group of men several days later…

David never would have found me in the woods…taken me to his family's farm…

Who would I be now if those things had never happened to me?

I slid to the side of the bed grabbing the tank top he threw on the floor last night and pad as silently as I can into the bathroom. I don't close the door all the way, just enough to muffle the sounds; let him sleep as long as he can. We both needed rest.

I walk to the tub, fill the plastic container with water and set it on the counter. Pull the shirt over my head tug it down over my waist and grab the now dry lace panties off the shower wall, sliding into them so I can start braiding my hair in one long plait starting at the crown of my head and moving down to the now shortened ends. It still hangs to the center of my back. I leave it in one solid braid instead of twisting it back up. Start brushing my teeth; God knows I've missed toothpaste since we left the warehouse.

I'm still brushing my teeth when he opens the bathroom door behind me. He still looks half asleep judging by his reflection in the mirror over my shoulder. He moves across the cold linoleum floor 'til he's standing right behind me, meets my gaze in the mirror for a moment before he drops his head; presses his lips to my shoulder for a second. He doesn't say anything just straightens back up still looking half asleep.

I can't exactly talk with a mouth full of toothpaste, so I bend to spit in the sink. Freeze when I feel his hand against the small of my back, palm pressed flat over my spine, the fingers of his other hand curl against my skin, wrap around my waist just under my ribs. I look up at him in the mirror; still bent forward not sure what he's doing, till I catch his eyes in the mirror.

_Oh. Not looking so asleep now…_

I scoop up water with one hand to rinse my mouth quickly. Grip the edge of the counter with my fingers and press my hips back into him while his hand slides down my back, moves across my skin to curl against my other side.

His eyes flick to mine for a second before he looks down again, apparently fascinated with watching his hands slide across my skin.

Not that I'm complaining in any way; it feel fantastic…like everything else he does to me. I blush, look down.

His palms continue to slide over my skin up my spine, down my side gently pressing when I start to straighten; keeping me bent forward. His hands are almost possessive in their quest…Which _shouldn't _be hot…but tell that to the rush of heat flooding me, and the flutter of desire curling through my insides.

I press my hips back against him feel his reaction when his fingers tighten against my ribs, his jaw clenches.

I lick my lips find his eyes in the mirror. "You want to try something else you've never done before?" I miraculously succeed in smirking at him in the mirror without blushing like crazy at the same time.

He curses, palms sliding down to my hips, pulling me flush against him again. "You're going to kill me."

"Lost time remember?" _We could be dead tomorrow._

His fingers curl around the lace at my hips. He holds my gaze in the mirror for a second when he starts sliding them off, then looks away breathing fast, hands shaking against my sides, like I might stop him, or he might chicken out.

I bend further reach back between my thighs, push up onto my toes and feel him jump under my hand. His breath hissing out in a string of curses that are rather impressive. His eyes find mine in the mirror again, breathing so quick I visibly watch each one through ragged rise and fall of his chest, the way his shoulders knot and his hands tighten on my sides.

I align us, feel his fingers clench against my hips and press back onto him; gasp and shiver when he rocks his hips entering me faster, deeper than I expected. He freezes, at the sound hands stilling.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" He exhales in relief when I shake my head.

I press my forearms to the countertop, rock back against him slowly, experimenting with the angle while his head tips back, and his fingers tighten on my waist.

He's holding back again, just like last night…I should find that sweet…but there's something so deliciously hot about watching him lose control…_feeling_ him lose control…my stomach flutters and clenches with heat just thinking about it.

"Daryl," He drops his chin, looks at me again. I thrust back against him forcefully, catching him off guard completely; gasp myself when heat rushes up my spine, with the sensation. I bite my lip watching him in the mirror hiss, and curse whole body jumping in response, breath tearing out of him.

I wait till he glances at me again. "That's fucking hot."

He shakes his head looks up at the ceiling.

"Shudup" I'm not sure if he's blushing or if his skin is just flushed from sex; either way it's a brilliant look on him…makes my walls spasm and twist around him with another rush of wet heat.

He surprises me by shifting his grip on my hips, thrusting into me suddenly igniting every nerve ending I have on fire at once ending in a brilliant burst of white lightening behind my eyelids.

"Holy shit…"

I swear he just laughed; but I can't look up to see because he's doing it again and, _oh god…_

It only takes a few sharp thrusts and my toes are already curling, my legs shaking as I press back into him, pleasure bolting up my spine making my brain fuzzy and my hands grasp desperately to the sink top for support.

I press back against him as much as I can, don't recognize the sound that slips out of me when his palm presses me to the countertop, fingers grip my shoulder pulling me back against his thrust so each surge of his hips buries him so deep I think he's reached my spine, he's definitely found the perfect angle for the firework display behind my eyes, each roll of his hips winding the sparks and tremors in my center tighter and tighter until I explode.

I arch, shudder with the first wave and feel his hips jump forward in response when my muscles lock around him. My knees almost give out, liquid heat searing every nerve, spiraling through my core, seizing around him pulling my name from his lips with a harsh groan. While his fingers simultaneously tighten over my hips and his thrusts falter a second later spilling wave after wave, thrust after thrust inside me with a sharp curse, a ragged intake of breath.

I lay against the countertop trying to remember how to breath normally, keep my cheek pressed to the smooth surface waiting for my muscles to get back with the program.

Its only a moment or too later though when he's shifting his hold on my shoulder, sliding his hand around to my belly standing me up, pulling me back against his chest still all boneless and fuzzy, the hand on my shoulder shifts to my face, he leans his head forward, turns me till his mouth slides over mine, tongue dipping into my mouth, tracing over me, sliding along my teeth.

He pulls back. "huh."

"What?" My brain is still not up to functioning, too many neurons in my overly sexed brain doing jumping jacks or tilt-a-whirls or something other than processing…

"You taste like toothpaste." I laugh against his mouth, feel his lips quirk against mine.

"It's nice right?" I reach still tingly fingers for the tube on the sink top; manage to grab it despite my useless brain. Groan when he grabs the toothbrush off the sink, slipping out of me. I lean my hip against the countertop palms on its cool surface to steady myself while my legs decide if they want to stand or fall down. I let them figure it out themselves while he brushes his teeth.

I'm still combating post-orgasm fuzzies when his hands encircle my waist, lift me the few inches to sit bare assed on the cold linoleum counter, my forgotten lace panties tickling my ankle till I kick them the rest of the way to the floor. The cold porcelain of the sink basin presses against my left thigh making me shiver I'm about to speak when he tackles my mouth again, tongue diving into my mouth and sliding over mine.

Mmm, now we both taste like mint…

I lean back on my hands after a few minutes, the need to breathe finally winning out.

Watch his movements as he slide his hands up over my ribs, just under my shirt, then down my arms. His fingers pause briefly on each mark and fading bruise, face intent; eyes following their pattern up and down, across 'til he's mapped every inch of skin I have to offer.

I grab his hands when they pause against my inner thigh, hovering over a particularly angry blue welt still vibrant against the backdrop of my pale complexion.

I lift my fingers to his hair, my voice is quieter then I intend when I finally speak. "Hey, come back to me, don't get lost…it's over."

He shakes his head slowly; maybe not even aware he's doing it.

"I can't _stop_ thinking about it…I don't ever want you to hurt like that, ever…I…." His throat closes around the words, he dips his head. He stands chin tucked to his chest, eyes closed tight one palm pressed over his eyes like he's trying to block it out; hide even from himself…maybe he is…_God knows I've tried before without much success._

When he opens his mouth to try again I shush him and kiss him instead because it's okay, I get it.

He lets me be the one to pull away; keeps his hands against my skin 'til I'm leaned far enough away to look at him properly, keep more than just the tip of his nose in focus.

"We should probably go tell the others we're alive; before they send in a search party." And find us like this…he'd absolutely die of embarrassment; not that I wouldn't be right behind him.

"I wanna try going north on this road; it's the wrong direction but If I remember correctly there's a group of buildings a few miles up—I don't even think you can call it a town it's so small… But we might find a serviceable car there to get the kids out."

He's reaching over to the shower stall, grabbing his flannel shirt, checking to see if it's dry and then shaking it to loosen the stiff fabric. He slides it over my shoulders. I grab his wrists to stop him.

"It's going to be cold, you should wear this."

I was able to wash my own shirt yesterday, even though a lot of it is stained from the blood; it's functional enough to wear.

He's shaking his head, fingers deftly closing the top two buttons over my skin. I'd swear a real grin just flashed across his face for a second before he leans into me voice against my ear.

"No, I'd rather everyone know your mine."

_Oh God._

Heat flashes through me instantaneously, coloring my cheeks.

My stomach does a complex series of barrel rolls.

From a guy that can't look me in the eye half the time…

_Where the hell did that come from…_?

I hide my face in his neck, my palms pressed against his chest while I try to take a calming breath in, my voice still shakes, barely louder than a whisper when I answer him.

"For as long as you want me." His hands slide around my waist almost pulling me off the counter.

I barely hear him say it. "Stay forever."

His nose is buried against my neck too, mirroring my posture.

Apparently we can say the words:

Just don't expect us to actually _look_ at each other when we're doing it…

I feel like the room is spinning as it is…Like I might crash to the ground if it wasn't for his arms anchoring me here.

"You're killing me, I don't know which way is up when your near me." I don't mean to say it out loud.

His exhale warms my skin, his words curl heat through my chest.

"Good. I'm glad it's not just me."

He grabs his pants off the shower wall, finds the thick material still too damp to wear and throws them back over the top.

"I'm gonna get dressed, talk to them about the plan."

I nod; still not sure I trust my voice for normal conversation.

He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead for a moment blushes looking at me when he pulls back then gives me a fantastic view of his ass that makes my stomach flip and my cheeks heat when he walks away.

_Now that's a View._

_Wow_.

* * *

**Notes: **I wasn't going to put this up till Spaghetti Tuesday (on Wednesday)

but I need to work on the next chapter! It's turning out to be really tricky!

Send me good vibes people! : P


	36. Chapter 36

_**Notes:** Short chapter Sorry! :P_

_Looking for Carol Fans to help me with the next chapter! I Love Carol, I just can't see them as more then friends. I want to keep her as IC as possible; I love the 'stop it,' 'no you stop it' relationship she has with Daryl in the show;-so I want to preserve that; without giving Fin a nervous breakdown... Tricky tricky! _

_Anyone willing to beta a chapter and offer suggestions/improvements send me a PM! Thanks!_

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

Glenn is in the front room sitting on the couch when he emerges. He nods to him, does a half-way decent job of keeping the goofy grin off his face when he looks down at the book he must have found somewhere in the house to read.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, where is everyone?"

"Sasha is on the porch with the kids, Tyreese is with her, we actually got a little snow last night; just enough for it to stick to the wood, kids are writing their names in it."

"Lizzie?"

"Nah, she's in the room." Glenn nods his head toward the hallway. "You want me to go with you?"

"I'm good, just be a moment."

He walks across the ugly blue carpet down the hallway and swings open the first door to find her sitting on the bed staring out the window.

He pauses for a moment before stepping into the room swinging the door shut quietly behind him, he doesn't need Glenn to hear this; he can't keep a secret for two seconds.

"Listen up; I know Carol covered for you. I know what you did to Karen and David. Carol took the wrap for you so Tyreese wouldn't flip out and kill you; he and Rick were at each other's throats over it!"

…Hell he took a damn hard knock in the process too.

"I'm telling you right now, _you_ do not get to make decisions like that for everyone. I don't care what you think is best; we all make decisions together. Karen and David might have lived, just like Sasha, and Glenn and You! And you need to understand this—Seraphim isn't sick. She's not; you almost killed her. You try _anything_, you so much as _look_ at her wrong and _I_ will end you."

She doesn't flinch, doesn't even look like she heard him till her eyes shift and she stares at him.

"Carol was right, she said you wouldn't see it that black and white."

"Well she's right. 'Cause it isn't _black and white_; it's people's _lives_! She got thrown out covering for you; think about that why don't you."

"She'll be fine, she's strong…"

"The worlds more complex then stronger and weaker," He cuts her off voice clipped; agitated. "If that's all you see you're in for a world of hurt. People will surprise you, people change, it's not that easy."

"It is; you guys make it too complicated. Are we done here?" She stares at him.

"Stay away from her." His finger is point at her…he doesn't even remember making the decision to raise his hand.

"Alright," She looks down at her shoes then out the window again.

He turns and leaves shutting the door behind him. Leans against the frame for a second breathing deep.

Is this what they've come down to? Kids that kill and adults that can't do anything to stop it?

He straightens, drags a hand through his hair before going to the back door, sliding it open to find Sasha and the kids on the back porch.

She's helping Molly and Mikka write their names on the railing in the white specks that could almost be large grains of sand.

"Hey man,"

He nods to Tyreese leaned against the wall.

"We're going to try to find a car that works; Fin is pretty sure there's a town of sorts up the road. Hold down the fort?"

Tyreese nods his head. "Yeah, no problem man."


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Characters of The Walking Dead.

I'm borrowing them for my muse to play games with; she's nicer than Lizzie at least… .

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

It takes us at least two hours on foot to reach the 'too-small-to-be-a-town' group of buildings. It's big enough that it contains one four way stop with a traffic light that's long dead-and two cross streets.

Dead leaves clog the gutters and litter the sidewalks, all the windows are coated with a thick dusting of yellow pollen insides dark. The tallest building is the Steeple on the Baptist Church one street over.

Small town America…gone.

We're checking the cars along the side of the road, specifically those parked against the store front designating this stretch of single story buildings on Main Street as the local post office, and some tiny non-descript business office with a busted out front window. I'm about to move to the next row when Daryl grabs my arm. Uses his suddenly painfully tight grip on my upper arm to yank me down between the two cars.

"Car!" He hisses his single word explanation for his actions even as he proceeds to force me down farther against the pavement.

I wave him off, lean back against one of the vehicles listening intently and hear it a few moments later.

The distinctive sound of tires driving over rough pot-hole strewn pavement.

We just have to wait for whoever it is to move on; hope they don't stop here, though I can't imagine why someone would; there isn't much here. Strangers can be more dangerous than Walkers; we both know that all too well.

Daryl moves crouched low, slides up between the vehicles and around the hood of the sedan to my left. Moving onto the sidewalk, crossbow ready; he circles the front hood of the cars and moves to the other side; giving himself a second vantage point for shooting if it comes to that, one that puts him in the position of being the first target; not me.

I slide an arrow from over my shoulder, nock it in front of me, and resist the urge to hiss at him to get the hell back behind some cover. I have to keep my bow angled so it doesn't scrape the pavement from my kneeled position.

I watch the car pass by us slowly, a station wagon…I stay low… don't see anyone on the passenger side in the front; or the back. Perhaps it's only the one person driving. That's lucky; if they're hostile one person will be easy to dispatch between the two of us, hopefully without either of us getting shot in return.

I jump when I hear him shout.

"Carol!"

Daryl's up on his feet, running into the street behind the car that just past us waving his arms over his head. Shouting her name again.

I stand up in time to watch the brake lights flare on the car. It jerks to a halt in the middle of the road about 200 feet from him, breaks screeching in protest.

The driver side door opens and a slender woman dressed in loose layers with close cropped hair a little taller than me jumps out runs to him. I put the arrow back in my quiver over my shoulder as she hugs him tight. Drop my eyes to the pavement between the cars, than scan the street around us when his arms slide around her back a moment later holding her close.

When I look back they're no longer hugging but he's keeping his hands on her arms, still standing close enough to almost touch. I'm close enough I can hear them speak.

"Hell have you been?"

She doesn't answer bursts into a litany of her own breathless questions instead. "Rick and Carl?"

"They're fine."

"Judith?" When he nods she raises a hand to her face, looks like she's going to cry for a moment before she continues.

"Hershel? Beth…Maggie…Glenn?" His face must react to one of the names because she starts to cry.

"Beth's fine, Maggie and Michonne should be too, Glenn Sasha and Tyreese and…most of the kids made it."

"Lizzie..?"

"She's alive, and she's a real piece of work."

She keeps her hand over her mouth for a moment before dropping it to her side, nodding face carefully blank. Eyes dropping to the pavement. "Yeah, she's a little rough."

"A little rough my Ass! Hell, she shot Fin in the head right in front of us! Damn near killed her!"

She stares up at him for a moment silently squinting in the bright light, takes a visible deep breath. Her gaze slides to me in the next moment, assessing the person she doesn't recognize.

Something in her face shifts, I realize she's not looking at _me_; she's looking at _his shirt_, at the bow in my hand against my side.

Daryl takes a step back glances at me over his shoulder pulls his hands up under his arms like he's trying to stop himself from fidgeting.

I feel like I should be in a petri dish with both their stares.

"I'm going to go find a car that works."

"Not without me. Stay here." That _word_ again.

His eyes flick to mine for just a moment. I nod, some of the anxiety fluttering behind my ribs quiets down. I put my hands up on the trunk of the car and hop up onto the flat surface to rest, we did just walk for more than two hours.

I turn my attention to looking down the roads again …presumably for Walkers…but really so I don't have to see her looking at me with that blank expression.

"what…what happened to Hershel?"

"He didn't make it when they attacked." He gives her a few moments to collect herself after that news, she manages faster than I expect.

"Who is she?" Her voice is quiet but I still hear it.

"Seraphim. She saved Rick and Carl's lives after they escaped the prison. Saved _my_ life- Glenn's, Sasha and Tyreese, Molly, Mikka and Patrick; she nearly got killed in the process-and then Lizzie tried to kill her right in front of us. Damn near succeeded."

"I don't understand, why…"

"Lizzie thought she got bit, decided to take her out to protect the group; sound familiar?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to do with her…."

_That seems to be the general consensus lately: what to do with Lizzie?_

"I went back to the Prison…got there just after." She pauses for a moment, he doesn't speak. "It's all gone. I went to the meeting point, but no one made it there…I thought I was the only one…that everyone was dead."

"We lost a lot of people."

"Who was it? What happened?"

"The Governor came back; brought his new group; wanted to take the prison for himself…killed Hershel right in front of Rick trying to convince us to leave...Beth and Maggie had to watch…" He stops looks down.

Carol makes a broken sound; I stare at my boots while they both collect themselves, when he continues finally his voice has changed.

"What the Hell were you thinking telling Rick that you killed David and Karen? You need to come back with us, tell him the truth; tell everyone the truth. We all owe each other that much don't we?"

"But Lizzie…."

"Fuck Lizzie; is that girl worth your life?!"

"Sophia…"

"She Aint Sophia! Sophia is Gone! You Can't Replace Her! Trying to Save that Monster Aint Gonna Change That!" His voice echoes off the store front.

They stare at each other for a tense minute.

I hop off the car bow in hand, reaching for an arrow before they come around the corner drawn by the noise. I hear Carol say his name behind me when she sees them approaching.

He must glance back; take in the number ambling up the street with some distance between us still.

"She's got it."

Yup.

And I welcome the distraction; right now it's a Godsend.

I feel like I've stepped into the middle of someone else's book halfway through; it's uncomfortable to say the least.

I move down the faded yellow line in the road, nock my arrow; raise my arms, fire. Nock another arrow and send another one down to the asphalt. Two more go down before they've gone another twenty feet, not in any particular hurry to finish them off; trying to avoid have to return to their private conversation.

I pause, arm still raised near my cheek listening…no…feeling the space around us…_there._

I move forward again, nock another arrow, turn down the side street and take down two more ambling up the block.

I move between the buildings, retrieve my arrows from the Dead. Walk to the outdoor spigot on the brick building next to me, twisting the handle experimentally, crouching down to rinse the arrow shafts in the water that trickles out.

Not exactly wasting time… nobody wants putrid blood and decaying brain matter on their arrows, especially when you're carrying them anywhere near a functioning nose…

I have no idea what's going on in the street behind me; I'm not sure I want to know exactly.

After this morning I thought I kind of knew what was going on between us; but I feel all turned around again. That stupid knot twists in my stomach again.

I toss my braid back over my shoulder—keep it out of the water puddle spreading across the pavement under my boots. I turn the tap off, stand up and move back into the street to grab the other arrows, taking my time.

Daryl's shifted the conversation in my short absence; they're both closer to the alley I went down. They're facing me when I step out from between the buildings. Daryl's arms still crossed over his chest; crossbow against his side like he wasn't worried despite moving, his face relaxes when he sees me.

Carol's standing beside him arms loose at her sides. They're too far away to hear what they're saying, or they've lowered their voices…I try my best to pretend I can't feel their eyes on me, busy myself yanking arrows out of eyes sockets.

I taking the other four arrows back down the alley to rinse, trying to give them time to talk about whatever it is they need to talk about without intruding.

I'm twisting the spigot closed the second time shaking the arrows dry when he moves down the alley, keeping his crossbow against his side with one hand.

"Okay?" I glance up at him.

"Yes?" I'm not sure what we're talking about; I don't think it's Walkers though.

"Come on." I follow him back down the alley Carol is standing at the entrance, eyes slightly red, face drawn…she did just got confirmation that half her group is dead, that's a rough day to put it mildly.

"We going to keep looking for another Car?" Cause even if Carol's going with us now; not everyone is going to fit in that station wagon she's driving…

"Yeah," He moves past her, doesn't look at her when he does.

She looks down for a moment, then turns and follows him. I glance down the direction we came from; her vehicle is off now; door shut; though it's still parked in the middle of the street…not that matters unless someone else happens to drive by.

We split up to some degree, as we search; though every time I start to branch off towards another road Daryl follows me immediately. We don't speak as we work down each street, Carol still hasn't done much more than acknowledge my existence with the occasional wary glance. She does it far more when he's close to me; the knot in my stomach is back full force after just a few tense minutes.

We've circled most of the town before we find a vehicle not smashed to hell or blocked in by too many other cars. It's hard to find one with four tires decent enough for driving on; ones that haven't gone flat or split and cracked with dry rot from sitting so long. Let alone being lucky enough to find one with battery power left to turn over when we try it…We have Carol's vehicle; so we could jump it, as long as we could get them close enough together; assuming we had jumper cables in the station wagon; I didn't ask, and no one's mentioned it.

I finally find a car in good shape in front of the church just as I'm starting to get really frustrated with the whole situation; Daryl's hovering, Carol's quick darting glances at us both…

I pause in the nearly empty lot to stare at the bumper sticker on the back window for a moment before I check it, struck with irony.

_God is my Co-pilot._

Bitterness claws at the back of my throat.

They were probably disappointed with those over-all results.

But the keys are just lying in the front seat when I approach it; like someone left it just for me.

I tamp down that positive thought. Whoever abandoned it thought they'd be coming right back…things obviously didn't work out like they planned; I can't see how any of that can be by design.

It starts the second I turn the key, Daryl's leaning against the roof near my open door when I try it. He circles the hood, climbs in the passenger seat when it starts, directs me to a big black truck parked half on the sidewalk one street over we passed earlier after Carol gets in the back seat.

"Still got those jumper cables in the wagon Rick used?" She must nod behind me because he addresses me next.

"Can you drive her back to the wagon, drive it over here?" He climbs out when I nod too; starts popping the hood on the Truck, crossbow resting on the curb.

Leaving me with Carol.

I let him escape though, know exactly what he's doing; he's not trying to throw us together he just can't deal with it right now.

I'm not the only one bothered by the tension; not sure what to do with it. He needs a few minutes of quiet to sort it out.

I think I'm going to need a little longer than that judging by the knots in my stomach.

I pull away from the truck and circle back to her vehicle; it only takes a few minutes.

She doesn't get out when I stop, we just sit there for an uncomfortable moment.

"Thank you for helping them."

Oh boy. Okay…what do I say, you're welcome? It seems like a hollow response.

Maybe because I have no idea where she fit in the previous group dynamics; what her relationship is to any of them; especially Daryl…

I nod as the silence stretches on another minute.

"You hurt him I'll slit your throat."

She opens the door and climbs out not waiting for my response.

_Alright then._

I wait for her to get in the wagon, heart still racing.

We both circle back to Daryl, he has Carol jump the trucks battery. I start to wonder if he chose the third vehicle so he could avoid picking who to ride back to the house with…

We leave them running for a few minutes to charge the batteries up while we siphon gas from the other vehicles along the street using the tube also in Carol's station wagon.

She's prepared; I'll give her that.

I take down four more dead drifting down the streets as we work. It's late afternoon before we climb into the cars and point them back towards the others…it's a much shorter drive than it was to walk.

Barely enough time alone to compose myself before we have to deal with not just Carol but everything else that goes with her arrival…I'm the first one to pull onto the partially hidden gravel drive, I slow to a crawl while they follow me parking on the rough gravel drive so the car is pointed towards the road in case we have to run in a hurry, they do the same behind me; staggering the cars so no one is blocking each other.

Glenn must be keeping watch out the front window for our return. He opens the front door and rushes out before we've finished parking, grabs Carol in a hug the second she's opened her door. She's laughing and crying at the same time while she hugs him back while Daryl climbs out of the truck to watch silently, I stand a few feet away letting everyone have their reunion.

"You're alive! Oh my God, you're alive." Tyreese practically picks her up off the gravel, looks like he might cry himself…I wonder how he'll feel after he learns she covered for Lizzie…the way she pulls away from him, expression flickering from relief to tension again I imagine she's thinking the same thing.

"Let's get inside," Daryl's voice is gruff, uncomfortable again.

Carol nods looking grim for a few moments 'til the kids see her race out onto the front steps grabbing onto her with a chorus of her name.

I didn't know Lizzie could smile; but she does hugging Carol when she sees her.

She shocks the hell out of me when she looks up at Carol smiling and asks her if they can play outside for a while.

_Maybe there's hope for her after all._

* * *

_:: Walking Dead ::_

* * *

**_Notes:_**_ Thanks everyone for your continued support; means the world to me! I hope I got Carol right! _

_Has Lizzie turned over a new leaf or is she just playing everyone?! _

_muhahahaha! _

_Reviews give me warm fuzzies and keep me in front of the laptop... ; )_


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Voices filter to me, muffled indistinct through the bedroom door in the other room.

Daryl didn't wait long after they'd returned to call a 'council meeting'; even short several key members.

This is how they work things out, and with Carol back things need to be brought up; cleared…they've been in there for almost two hours if I had to guess based on the amount of this book I've covered by lantern light since they left.

Glenn's right; it's terrible….but it's a welcome distraction from the talk going on next door.

They've obviously been talking about more than just the Lizzie issue; the fact that the voices haven't raised at all in the last hour leads me to believe they may not have even reached that part yet, don't want me to overhear what's being said…

Which means they're probably talking about me; or the farm…or both.

Carol is a council member; or _was _before her brief hiatus from the group.

I don't know how much Daryl told her earlier today in town; but she obviously had more questions then he'd answered, she kept glancing at me all day, expression carefully neutral while I pretended not to notice.

Glenn wanted me in on the meeting when Daryl brought it up; Sasha had nodded along with him. My stomach twisted into knots. Daryl wouldn't look at me when Glenn mentioned it; wouldn't look at Carol either. Still not sure how to deal with us both in the same room…

His classification of her as a 'friend' feels more and more muddled by the hour…I'm not sure what to do with that situation.

Everyone else seems to be trying there damnit'est to ignoring it.

Glenn the most obvious in the group, though Daryl's not far behind him; you'd think they both had shoe fetishes the way their eyes dive down whenever Carol and I are anywhere near each other.

I can only hope whatever they're airing out in there lessens the tension so thick you could almost reach out and touch it earlier today.

It wasn't the only reason I declined to join their meeting tonight: but it was the largest factor…I wanted a little space to myself; away from all of them to breathe a bit.

Glenn pulled a face when I declined, eyes darting to Carol before hitting his boots again. It's obvious he's desperate for everyone to just get along, poor guy.

I told him they should at least wait 'til we get back home, before extending such an invitation; let them put it to a proper vote with Rick and Michonne and Maggie present.

Plus someone needed to stay on watch while they chatted it up in there.

A deep baritone raises in the other room; far louder than before. My fingers pause flipping a page to listen.

Sounds like they've finally gotten down to what I'm sure was Daryl's main focus for calling the meeting tonight; not talking about me.

He's made it abundantly clear he's not letting Carol cover for what Lizzie did at the Prison. He wants to let everyone know the truth; putting all the cards on the table; clearing Carol's name…

I can't help but wonder if he's doing it for himself or for her.

Tyreese might have come to blows as Daryl put it when he and Rick first found out; but I couldn't see Tyreese doing the same to Lizzie; warped or not she was still a little girl…

I look up at the muffled soft sound coming from the other side of the house.

I know something is wrong the second I see her pale face coming down the hallway.

I'm on my feet instantly; the partially muffled voices of the meeting still taking place without me in the other room melt away.

_This would be when she'd do something… _

_She had to know with Carol back it would come out…_

"Help me, please! You have to stop her!" Mikka's voice is lowered, but urgent. Her hands are on my arm pulling me toward the dark hallway tear tracks glimmer on her cheeks when we pass the through the moonlight filtering through the window.

Dread crawls, twists through my insides; claws its way up my throat burning like acid. My feet start moving on auto-pilot; brain still flying through the possibilities; flipping through the horrors I've seen before.

"Mikka, what happened?"

_Oh God…what if I open that door and they're both dead…my pulse speeds up, pounds through my ears._

"Lizzie, she took Patrick into the woods, she said not to tell anyone,"

_Oh God. It can't be true…all this time watching her…worrying she'd do something to me and they left her in a room with a bunch of other kids…_

…_the fucking window is wide open. _

_With walkers outside we never considered the possibility that she'd bolt from us._

Revulsion twists my stomach, I take a deep breath; fight the urge to be sick.

"Did she say where she's going?"

_Fuck it all; if I have to track her alone in the dark…_

"Please! She said not to tell, but I have too; she's going to do something again and then Carol will leave us!"

_Carol is the least of our worries right now. Fuck. _

"Is she armed Mikka?" I need to know what I'm running into.

"She made me get her a knife yesterday. Please don't be mad at me…"

_Right under our fucking noses, shit!_

I'm already moving back down the hallway at a run Mikka right behind me. I sprint to the kitchen, pull open the backdoor quickly scanning the yard in the moonlight, nothing; not that I expected them to be there.

I jump back inside grabbing my gear off the table; screaming his name.

I notice Mikka is grabbing a handgun off the counter behind me.

"No Mikka!"

Her reply is lost in the loud bang of the bedroom door slamming into the wall in the front room a second before Daryl rolls around the corner; takes in my expression and grabs his bow off the table without question.

A second later Glenn, Carol, Tyreese and Sasha round the corner looking shaken; though whether that's from the content of the meeting I just interrupted, or the fear brought on by not knowing why I've called them out; why I'm grabbing my weapons—what can only be sheer panic on my face; I'm not sure.

"Walkers?" Glenn is grabbing a gun too.

_If only_

"Lizzie took Patrick into the woods!"

Carol's hand flies to her open mouth.

_If I had any doubts left about Lizzie; they're gone now._

Tyreese curses behind her.

"Mikka stay here!" Carol is grabbing a gun, they all are.

"No! Don't leave me!"

I don't wait for them to get ready; already moving out the door.

"Don't you _Dare_ go out there!" Daryl's right on my heels as I blow through the back door calling back to him over my shoulder. "Who else can fucking track in the dark?!"

This will take both of us, and there's still very little chance we'll find them in time…

He's cursing, vaulting over the railing of the porch right behind me, we both hit the hard frozen ground running while the others race down the loud wooden stairs filling the yard.

"We'll search around the house, Mikka stay inside!" Sasha calls out in the darkness.

I'm already moving through the clearing just behind the house, searching in the moonlight is a near impossible task. I find two sets of small foot prints moving into the trees…

"I've got tracks!"

"I've got them too!" Daryl's voice is tight. The others are circling the cleared space around the trailer, behind us.

_Fuck, She was playing with them earlier; having them race to the trees and back repeatedly: Lizzie never plays with them… _

_I thought it was because Carol was back…_

_My breath goes cold realization dawning. She was filling the space behind the house with prints…is she smart enough to know we'd try to track her even in the dark? _

_How long has she been planning this? Cold dread curls through my insides, bitter fear for Patrick. How long ago did they start out, how fast could she move a frightened child half her age in the dark?_

"Too many damn prints here," Daryl's moving into the tree line, shining a small flashlight against the ground; trying to bounce it off more useful prints in the dark.

I move into the tree line, look for anything obvious, keep moving farther from the house; I can still see him off to my right, mostly because of his flashlight catching the corner of my eye.

Someone is coming up behind me, I turn for a split second start to raise my bow thinking it's Lizzie, realize its Mikka…she's followed me into the woods.

I exhale flooded with relief for a moment, 'til she speaks.

"She went this way; she said not to tell anyone but _you_."

_Oh fuck me._

_I'm about to play cat and mouse in the dark with a 12 year old monster._


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"She said if I tell anyone else, if anyone else comes with us; she'll kill me too."

_Fuck. _

"It's safer in the house, go back."

"I can't!" She's shaking, clearly crying even in the dark.

We're wasting time, with the house dark she might get lost trying to go back anyways… We don't need one more small child out here in the dark with Walkers and Lizzie playing some sick twisted game.

_The longer it takes to find Lizzie the greater chance she has to slit Patrick's throat…assuming she hasn't already since she's got to hear us calling for them…_

"_Carol said we have to be brave."_

I could give a god damn right now what Carol has to say, we might not be in this mess if she'd recognized Lizzie for what she was back at the Prison.

"God Damnit Mikka," She flinches and I immediately regret my outburst; it's not her fault her sister is a seriously disturbed child. Mikka is as much a victim as Patrick; Lizzie's been using more than just Carol to cover her tracks for a long time.

The voices in the darkness get louder. Tyreese's baritone. Carol's calling for her…

I cringe at the noise._ She doesn't want to be found, didn't they get that? _

…_we're not dealing with a lost child, we're tracking a predator._

_Fuck, I'm going to regret this_

"Stick to my side, or else!" She's steps closer to me, one small hand grabbing onto mine in the dark_._

"She said she'd go this way." Her other fingers point around my back. Shifting my direction slightly left. I twist to look down at her small frame.

"You're sure?" She nods violently visible even in the dark.

"You can go back Mikka…"

"I can't."

Alright then. I drop her hand and start walking into the dark hear her follow close on my heels, breathing loudly behind me; hand gripping the back of Daryl's shirt against my back.

She stumbles along behind me, bumping against my back occasionally.

I turn when I hear them, shifting our direction in the woods, picking up speed 'til they're in view even through the darkness under the trees.

I didn't even think about looking for them earlier…I should have…maybe it would have saved his life.

Mikka lets out a cry behind as I raise my bow to take down the first man hands and face slick black in the moonlight.

"Don't look Mikka."

Her face is pressed to my back when I fire, grab a second arrow over my shoulder and drop it right next to my bow breath leaving me in sharp cry a body slamming into me from the darkness with a snarl.

Excruciating white hot pain searing my side, flashes an agonizing red against my eyelids as I hit the ground, twisting trying to get away.

My arms shake, locked around Lizzie's blood slicked skin.

She's nothing more than a pitch black outline against the trees over me, screaming in wordless rage. Her skin is too god damn slick to keep my hold...my fingers slipping; I can't stop the scream when my hands lose their grip on her wrists.

"I'm sorry! Lizzie no!" Mikka's broken sobs echo off the trees, fill the darkness blotting out the sounds of the dead tearing what's left of the little boy to shreds.

The sound of snarling grows louder…

_We're all going to die out here._

* * *

_**:: Walking Dead ::**_

* * *

_**Notes: **I was going to leave this off 'til tomorrow; but I haven't done a terrible cliffy in a while! ; p Isn't that a terrible thing to do to you? Well, we're about to jump view points to Daryl so it made more sense to stop here! _

_Next bit should be up before tomorrows Episode; assuming my small child cooperates with nap time so I can get it out! _

* * *

_Big thanks to all the readers and reviewers and the people who like this enough to fav/follow I didn't realize how many that was until the other day and went; okay need to get this chapter out so people don't go crazy! ;)_


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer**:_ I don't think I disclaimed the last chapter, but it should come as no surprise that nothing has changed and I do not own the original AMC characters… disappointing I know! :/_

* * *

**Chapter Forty**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Did you find tracks?" Her breathless voice nearly brings him up short, telling her to go back; the sound of her feet giving away her presence behind him long before she speaks. He decides against it though and simply presses on into the darkness. He can hardly send her away, might actually need her if Lizzie can be reasoned with at all...which he is seriously doubting.

"No, Still looking." Her rapid breathing behind him is doing nothing to calm the knots twisting tighter and tighter in his guts with each passing minute. How does a 12 year old girl take an 8 year old into the woods and leave no trace? Fuck.

He's missing something; maybe she was closer to where Seraphim started tracking, he should circle back; try to pick up her trail fresh from there...

Carol's flashlight bounces rapidly through the trees blinding him.

"Cut that shit OUT!" His heart is racing already, he doesn't need to be fucking blinded while he's trying to find something to tell him where Lizzie took Patrick; Fuck he'd settle for finding Fin out here right now.

A girl screams somewhere out in the darkness to his left.

They both break into a run through the trees, flashlights illuminations bouncing off the ground, narrow yellow beams that make the surrounding trees, branches and roots that much harder to identify in the inky darkness that swallows up the light; he should ditch the damn light; but it's too late now...he doesn't have time to wait for his eyes to adjust; and Carol can't navigate in the darkness like he can.

Something hard collides with his shoulder nearly taking him down, knocking the wind out of his chest.

Carol almost goes to her knees behind him; snagged on some unseen hazard in the dark.

It will be a wonder if half of them don't get killed crashing around out here in the pitch black.

There's a gunshot somewhere in front of them. It echoes, ricochets off everything in the dark…seems to bounce around inside his skull reverberating with every pounding bone jarring fall of his boots on the frozen ground.

Another scream slices through him… this one high pitched, horrifyingly small and sharp; pierces his brain like a needle sending far too much adrenaline pumping through his system making his thoughts blur, trip over one another in an endless spiral of cold hard fear: wondering if it's her screaming...

Another gunshot cracks the darkness hits him like a physical blow to his chest…

Half his brain is screaming at him to turn and run the other way. Screeching and twisting in blind panic reminding him that she doesn't carry a gun and he doesn't want to see what he's about to find if he keeps going this way…

Bile rises in his throat, chokes his next breathe while the need to escape hounds him, beats at him with a mindless rage.

"Walkers!" Carol's sharp cry catches him off guard sends his eyes flying to the dark spaces between the trees around them as they run searching for movement he hasn't yet seen…how many were drawn by the gunshots…the screams…

They burst into an open space from between two trees, tumbling down a small incline he didn't see before taking the next step in the dark. He's staggering and tripping trying to keep his feet under him; his chest slamming into a large body the scent of death fills his nose before the snarls reach his ears. His hand is already locked around the hilt of his knife; pulling it up to slam it home even in the dark, aiming toward the vicinity of the snarling sound in the dark.

The hard impact of his knife blade imbedding itself into rotten bone is enough to jar the bones of his arm with a sharp flash of pain. The snarls stop, he jerks his hand back, wrenching his knife free with a twist, standing back up. Alert and scanning the darkness for more.

Carol's flashlight is still spinning through the trees, his own dropped and forgotten next to the caved in skull of the dead Walker.

His heart leaps into his throat, closes off his air when Carol's flashlight glints off far too much red in the darkness…blonde hair…Her flashlight falls to the ground, the light winks out bulb blowing with the impact.

Her screaming sob next to him fills the darkness, he's blinded by the sudden lack of artificial light; stands frozen blinking wildly trying to clear his vision of the stupid bright overlapping circles dancing across his retinas.

"Mommy…" The breathy choke sends him cringing backward.

He hears her move rather than sees it; hands reaching out blindly to stop her fall; she jerks her elbow, slams it into him throwing him off with a harsh cry. More sobs tearing from her throat. He can barely make out her outline in the darkness, moonlight outlining her back, her hair as she crawls across the ground choking on broken sobs toward the small body on the ground.

The words finally make it through the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears; sift their way through the blind fear choking him making him want to vomit as they turn from wordless sobs to the broken repeated litany of her daughter's name.

He stands frozen to his spot, he can't offer her comfort not for this…not when he still doesn't know if the rest of them are alive…

A snarl to his right draws his attention; he's turning on instinct…heart stops again in his chest… Another large form hunched in the darkness; movements frenzied and wild as it feasts on something in the dark ignoring the rest of them completely…to consumed by its meal.

His bow is up with a wordless cry, arrow sending it down into the darkness away from the small form with a hard thump against the frozen ground he barely registers.

Carol's voice still sliding around in the back of his head; slicing and cutting like broken glass…tearing at him like her broken sobs did outside that barn with the hot sun beating down on his neck; the smell of gunpowder, and death filling his nose. He tried to comfort her then and she pulled away from him; running. She's pulled away from him now too; the difference being it doesn't sting this time because he can't comfort her; has nothing to offer her; no empathy, no flowers to ease her through: not for this death.

It would be hollow and empty to do so: a lie.

There's no comfort in lies.

The sound is too close and yet seems so far away in the darkness…raw pain assaulting his senses as she keens and wails over the tiny form bleeding out in her arms.

His feet carry him toward the other body…too small to be hers, he realizes a step or two away…takes in the face with a silent curse.

_Patrick._

_God Damnit. _

He kneels briefly, the sickly sweet scent of blood and undertone of bile picked up by the breeze has him pressing the back of his hand over his mouth. In the dark he can't tell what killed him—though with the torn cavity of his abdomen, shredded ripped organs and horrifyingly wet glistening bits in the moonlight…It might be impossible to tell even in the light.

He leans away for a moment, breathing slow trying not to vomit…

In the quiet space between Carol's cries he hears her voice.

"Daryl…"

_Oh God, please…_

_If he was going to ever ask for anything it would be this._

His heart leaps, stomach clenching at the same instant like he's been kicked in the gut.

He doesn't remember moving, doesn't know how he got turned around; picked out her dark outline against the trees. But the closer his feet bring him the faster his heart pounds, the harder it is to take in a solid breath that doesn't sound like a broken gasp…

She's kneeling or sitting on the ground.

Bent forward, the moonlight glinting off the crown of her copper hair in the darkness.

"Are you alright?" He barely gets it out; can hardly recognize it as actual words, but somehow she does...

"Help me!" Her soft sob claws at him, rakes his insides with pain.

Terror chokes him all over again, squeezes his throat, narrows his vision; his hands reach for her in the dark, insides twisted with fear.

"Are you hurt?" His fingers wrap around her shoulders in the dark, she hisses, jerks away sharply—denying injury at the same time.

"no, I'm fine…"

He's ready to scream in rage at her contradiction….especially when his fingertips have turned slick and black with blood in the moonlight.

His vision is improving too he can make out her blood smeared face. Her lips moving as she says something too quiet for him to hear, her eyes locked not on his face…cast downward…

Then she's shaking her head; turning back to him, begging him to do something…

Her words blur together. His skull feels stuffed with cotton as his hands try to slide over her form again; find the source of the blood coating his palms…giving him heart palpitations.

"Are You Okay?!" She cries out in pain and he immediately tempers his grip against her arms; doesn't let her go though: he _needs_ answers.

Needs her too look at him for God's sake, but her gaze keeps sliding away from his. He needs to see her-so he can make sure she's alright...comfort himself that the gunshots were for the Walkers; that they hit Lizzie only and not her…

He just needs her too look at him for one second so he can figure out how to breathe again…He didn't mean to shake her so hard…

A soft sound by his knees snags at his attention; pulls his eyes from her face to take in…

_Shit. No…_

_She's supposed to be at the house…._

His next words die in his throat.

The soft cries finally reaching his ears.

Her fingers lock around his arm, now she's shaking _him_ violently saying something…her eyes wide when they meet his in the darkness…

_clearly not okay._

"Daryl, the house, now."

He's never, ever heard her sound so desperate—panicked.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: ** Fine, I don't own them, sheesh. : /

**Notes: **Happy Sunday Peeps! Only hours to go til it's Dixon time! ; )

Thanks to all the readers and reviewers and the emails; awesome!

I love hearing from you let's me know someone is waiting to get

the next bit; which lights a fire under my tushy! :P

* * *

**Chapter Forty-One**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

His hands slip around her tiny frame picking her up, holding her to his chest as gently as he can. I can't make out his features in the moonlight; I'm too busy trying to keep the woods in enough focus to not trip over something and crash to the ground.

I stumble along behind him; moving as quickly as I can; trying to keep up with his much longer rolling stride. Even carrying her weight he moves quickly and efficiently through the darkness.

Somehow it still seems to take years for us to reach the house…ages to lose the sound of Carol's broken sobs of 'Sophia' in the trees.

I know that Mikka is still conscious because I can make out the soft sounds of her fragmented sobs, anguished whispers floating over his shoulder to my ears.

Broken apologize choked out with her sister's name, over and over again gasped into the darkness around us.

Daryl opens the back door, sets her down to lie flat on the table, he turns the lantern at the tables edge I was reading by what feels like hours ago up to its highest setting. Filling the room with a brighter yellow cast…it's not enough.

"Glenn, we need more light." He followed us in, Sasha on his heels.

"My bag," I'm too busy pulling away blood soaked layers to see what's left underneath.

Cursing at what I find.

My bag hits the chair beside me, Sasha covering her mouth with a broken sob.

Daryl is holding her tiny hands against the table, whispering and murmuring things in her ear, I can't make them out over her cries, but at least he's keeping her hands away from the hole in her side.

My wet hands are digging through small jars, plastic bags, dumping things onto the table surface next to her legs.

"Water Sasha, quick."

She's gone, and back in a moment, without question.

Glenn's tense face staring at my hands working to pull out the right ingredients catches my attention. His eyes are too shiny in the low light…he blinks rapidly.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, blinking furiously.

_I will not cry. _

"Glenn, Light!" He snaps into motion jerking away from the table. Returns after a moment with the other lantern from the bedroom; the one they used to light their meeting earlier in the night.

He sets it on the tables edge, lifts a flashlight to point at my hands, closes his eyes and turns his head away with a hard swallow when the beam casts it's brighter yellow circle of light on the jagged hole, deep red blood seeping out of to trickle down her side, pooling on the table surface.

There's a gunshot somewhere out in the darkness.

Sasha's mournful sound next to me seizes in my own throat.

I grab the bottle from her hand, hiss when the movement makes my chest burn. I do my best to ignore it while I grab the syringe to start flushing the hole in Mikka's belly. I need to at least know if this is salvageable…

I glance at Daryl, ready to tell him to hold her tighter; see him watching my hands, his grip tightens on Mikka's arms realizing what I'm going to do already.

"Sasha her legs." She shakes her head at my request, face horrified.

"Maybe, maybe we should let Carol look at this…" Glenn's face is pale, voice hollow.

"Is Carol a doctor?" For all I know she could be, I'd gladly hand this horror show over to someone with more experience.

He shakes his head once in the negative.

_Fuck._

"Hershel taught her some stuff though..."

I don't' have a chance to ask him what stuff; and there isn't time right now.

I hear Tyreese at the backdoor, just a few feet away voice gruff, little doubt who he's talking to. "You don't want to go in there,"

"Let me see her! Get out of my way!" Carol's shoving at his solid chest; trying to push her way into the room.

Mikka starts to sob harder.

I make a decision.

"Carol, I need your help."

The both pause outside the door. Daryl's eyes dart to mine for a moment, slide away again.

Then Tyreese steps back; lets her pass.

She halts just inside the door for only a moment taking in Mikka's stomach, the blood running down her side…Daryl jerks back to a standing position when she circles the table to where I am face furious.

"You didn't have to shoot them both!"

"Carol!" Daryl's bark almost drowns out my reply.

"I Didn't!"

We both ignore him, Carol continuing on as if he wasn't even in the room. "You've done enough damage, why don't you get the Hell away from her!"

"If I do that she's going to die, she needs a doctor."

_God help me._

"Well I don't see any Doctors around here; Are you happy now? You've killed them both!"

It's not often I get to hear a voice laced with that much venom.

I try not to flinch away from her words.

The searing pain in my right arm and chest is spreading to my back…I'm running out of time.

"I'm a Doctor."

Glenn is the first one to throw off his utter shock and speak.

"What?!"

"Don't get too excited, I didn't get a chance to finish my residency."

_Or start it…_

And this wasn't exactly my field… If I'd known what the world would be like when I'd finished school…

But the only other option was do nothing; which meant putting a bullet in another little girl.

Mikka's soft cries are the only sound in the room for a moment. Daryl swiftly kneels back down by her head to smooth her hair back again with one hand, whispering something to her too soft to hear.

Carol finally speaks nodding to me. "Tyreese; Hold her legs."

"Oh man, shit."

I wait 'til he does to press the syringe under her skin, flushing the wound as best I can, trying to block out the sounds of her screams…realize I'm apologizing to her as I work…so is Carol…and Daryl too from the look on his face when I glance at him.

I grimace, and slip my fingers under her skin, have to close my eyes and picture it in my head while I slip my fingers across exposed organs; feeling for tears in their surface… huff out a relieved breath when miraculously it all seems intact.

I pull back; check my fingers under the beam, , find only blood…one more way to tell.

Glenn makes a face when I raise them to my nose, smell them. "Hell are you…?"

"Trying to make sure her intestines aren't perforated." Daryl answers cutting him off mid question.

I glance up at him for a moment grateful to have someone else who knows what the greatest danger of a belly wound is. As a hunter he knows exactly how deadly a cut there would be.

We might as well take her outside and shoot her if that's the case.

There are very few worse ways to die then by a slow festering rot as infection spreads through your organs, and we have no access to any of the antibiotics needed to treat such a wound. Plants are great; but they don't have the same concentration as modern medicine once had since we could rarely get our hands on them anymore.

"Are they?" Carol's pale face is next to me now, cheeks wet from previous tears; but her eyes are somehow dry when they meet my gaze.

"I don't think so." I flush the wound again, focus on trying to keep my hands steady when they seriously want to shake; and ignore the pain radiating through my chest.

I have to clench my teeth to try to ignore the way my shirt clings to the wounds, sticks to the blood on my own skin still hidden under his shirt.

"Daryl," he's staring at me when I look up. "Put your fingers on her pulse, keep an eye on it while I do this." He nods face completely blank.

The room spins a bit when I turn my head back….huh…maybe someone should be checking my pulse…

I start packing the edges of the wound with herbs.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you try to sew that up?"

I shake my head, slowly so I don't make the room spin harder. "We can't sew this up; too much risk for infection; especially in the stomach…it needs to be flushed, changed out daily; these are plants that slow bleeding; they can also reduce inflammation; and fight infection and bacteria growth…" I pause to grab the few bandage supplies I have available to me.

_If I use them all on Mikka…_

_Hell_

"This needs a wet compress twice a day for ten minutes to promote tissue growth; then a dry wrap. Keep it clean. Daryl will have to get more of these plants; he should recognize them; you can find them near the river south of here; it gets boggy…that's where to look."

I have to pause, press my hands against the table surface a cold sweat breaking out on my back.

I nearly jump when Carol's hand rises to my arm steadying me; her voice edged with real concern. "Are you okay?"

"Seraphim…"

"Think you can do that?" I don't look at him, I keep my eyes on Carol; she stares back at me expression hard to read.

"Yeah I can try; but why won't you be doing it…?"

_Yeah, about that…wow, okay my vision is definitely starting to darken around the edges. _

I think Daryl just said something...but I can't seem to focus on the sound…it _warbles_ somehow...

I try to lock my fingers around the table edge for support, voice wavering when I answer.

"Cause this….isn't…all Mikka's blood…"

Then I hit the floor.

* * *

_**:: Walking Dead ::**_


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes: **_Alright so this is ALL Fin's POV and it's going to jump from dreams about the incident in the woods to reality linespaces differentiate these jumps_

_...just incase anyone is going 'wft?!' The stuff in ITALICS is dream/memory, well except for the usual italic sentences that denote Fin's thoughts. Okay, now that that's clear as mud and I'm confused too. Crap. : /_

_Poor Seraphim, I promise to be nicer to her in a bit... _

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Two**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

"_Run Mika, Go!" _

_Screaming my warning to her sends another hot slice of pain through my chest, it's radiating out from below my clavicle to my shoulder…shooting down my arm till my fingers go numb with it. _

_I'm trying to get up…_

_Can't seem to get my muscles to cooperate,_

_Can't catch my breath…_

_Come on!_

_Walkers lurch towards us, not drawn by the fresh body; attracted to the frantic movements of our struggle in the dark._

"_Shoot her!" Lizzie is screaming to Mika, her gun raised wavering between the approaching Walkers in the dark…and my spot on the ground with her sister screaming at her. _

"_Shoot her or I'll kill you!"_

_Mika bolts away through the darkness instead…_

* * *

It's daylight when I open my eyes again.

I don't immediately recognize the room I'm lying in…disorientation making me dizzy.

My mouth is horribly dry…drawing in a breath leaves me wheezing in agony; my chest seizing with pain, sharp stabbing jolts and dull throbs alternate through my shoulder.

Bone deep pain radiating down my right arm…which someone must have secured to my ribs with a strip of fabric seeing as I can't move that arm at all…I can't be certain; I can't lift my head enough to see anything but the blurry impression of sunlight on the off-white ceiling.

Someone says something in the room…but I'm at a loss to identify the actual words…or who said them.

I let my eyes slip shut against the pain and drift for a while longer.

* * *

"_I'm going to kill you!"_

_Mika bolts into the darkness._

_Lizzie tackles her screaming enraged. _

_An explosion of sound hits my ears, _

_Rings in them…Echoes off the trees in the darkness._

_Lizzie is screaming blindly stabbing at her sister's smaller form pinned to the ground. _

_Mika screams and screams…high pitched terrible wails of terror and pain that slice through my head, twist in my chest._

_Mika's shrieking cries claw at my ears; wrench my insides overwhelming the agony of moving._

_I drive Lizzie to the ground with my shoulder, searing white hot pain blinding me from my back…my chest…_

_Lizzie kicks at me; tries to stab me again…I slap her hand away with a sharp jerk; her fingers and the handle now so slick with blood she can't keep her grip anymore…_

_Mika is sobbing somewhere in the darkness a few feet away._

"_I'm sorry….I'm sorry!" _

_I have to lurch off of Lizzie when the Walker almost falls on Mika's huddled form snarling…_

_Lizzie tries to grab my leg. _

_I kick back getting her wounded stomach with my heel; sending her crumpling back to the ground, clutching at her blood soaked shirt…winding her hopefully for long enough that I can stop the Dead we've attracted with the commotion and a fresh body…._

_I've got to keep them from killing Mika at least; she might have a chance if the others can find us fast enough…I stagger to my feet. _

_Hand outstretched toward the ambling dead closing in on their helpless target my own ragged aching breathes seem to echo in my own ears as I try to focus…without my bow I only know one way to make sure they don't hurt anyone else…_

_I'm going to die out here anyways…_

_I sweep the legs out from under the first one, lean over its form in the dark…then take down the second one the same way…_

_They stay on the ground, seizing and convulsing a few seconds later._

_The sudden silence of the woods reaches my ears without their snarling gurgling cries._

_Everything freezes, runs too slow as I turn…_

…_The silence overwhelms my ears, _

_roars in them agonizingly loud… _

_I fully expecting Lizzie's next attack before I'm ready to defend myself again_

…_but she's just standing there…_

_Eyes wide…shocked. _

_Her pale face turned to me in obvious confusion..._

_Then down at the black spreading out across her shirt…_

* * *

I open them again to find I'm in the same room…

It still doesn't look familiar…

It's darker now

I should probably figure out why…

Knowing where I am…how much time has passed might be important.

…but then the pain is back and I lay still and drift again for a while, try to wait it out 'til it leaves me enough to concentrate…

I end up floating back into quiet darkness again…

* * *

_Lizzie doesn't move…just stands there staring back at me; Eyes wide...glassy almost… _

_Her pale face almost glows in the moonlight._

_Her eyes drift down to the black stain spreading out across her shirt…expanding faster down her chest towards the dark stain over her abdomen already visible in the pale light._

_I realize that another gunshot has gone off…it's not silence that's deafened me…but the crack of gunfire._

_I turn to see Mika's hands tremble and shake around its heavy weight…it drops from her suddenly open fingers to thud against the dirt while she dissolves into gasping sobs. _

_I collapse next to her the second Lizzie goes down, try to press my hands to the open holes on her belly._

_She stares up at me with wide eyes. _

"_How did you do that?"_

_Oh...she saw that…_

_I press my hands tighter over her abdomen, feel blood well up under my palms anyway._

_it hardly matters for either of us now…_

"_I….I…I just can, I don't know." _

_My breath rushes out in a painful breath that burns across my whole chest._

* * *

"Seraphim? Can you hear me? Come on babe…I need you to wake up."

_I know that voice…_

_it's….it's on the tip of my tongue…_

_Then it slides away again to inky blackness._

* * *

_She's staring up at me in the darkness; eyes catching the moonlight…shiny and bright with tears._

_I don't know how I do it…it just works…_

"_It's okay…Lizzie had lots of secrets too. I'm good at keeping secrets." _

_Her whisper is so quiet I have to lean my ear over her lips to hear it. _

"_Don't tell Carol I did it, she'll never forgive me…" _

_I nod, at a complete loss for words; chest burning with searing pain from Lizzie's wicked knife skills. I don't think we're going to have that problem…_

_Another Walker stumbles out behind us not twenty feet away._

_I don't think I have the concentration left to get rid of it not with the scent of fresh blood heavy in the air…and I lost my bow somewhere in the dark…no knife, no gun…so much pain I can barely breathe past it._

_I think we might both be taking these secrets to the grave._

* * *

_**End Notes:** _

_Did I just confuse the ebber-loving-bejeebus out of you? _

_Thanks for coming this far with me, you guys rock!_


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, well…not all mine. I'm keeping Fin for myself…you know as long as Daryl doesn't stab me in the eye…

**Notes**: Big thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys are awesome and I appreciate all the support!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Three**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"It's been too long; four fucking days…Mika's getting better, why isn't she?" His frustrated outburst breaks the silence.

Carol stares up at him from the side of the bed, eyes tired, face drawn and pale.

He takes a deep breath; tries to stop his feet form pacing back and forth in the tight space behind her.

The second he stops his eyes move to her pale face…just lying there…she only wakes up to take more of that weak ass tea; he doesn't even think she's remember it…recognizing that they're there when she does…

He says her name and she doesn't even look at him…it kills him _every time_.

He turns back to the wall, fingers laced behind the back of his neck just tries to stand there for a minute, quiet his mind.

_There's got to be something they can do; _

_something they haven't done yet…_

"There's a clinic up the same road I came down; I don't know if there's anything left; there might be medicine, IV's… When Carl was shot Hershel gave him a transfusion…we don't know how much blood she lost…maybe..."

"We don't have any blood to give her." He presses his eyes shut.

"Sasha says she's got that universal blood type; Red Cross used to call her up all the time begging her to come in and donate every few weeks. She mentioned it yesterday."

"I'll take Glenn make a run out of it."

"No, you should stay here."

His breath leaves him in a rush. "I can't… I need to be doing something, can't just sit here doing nothin…"

_Waiting for her to not wake up…or worse slip away from them and come back as one of the dead…_

"She needs you here, I'll go with Glenn, we'll take Tyreese…"

He opens his mouth to argue but she's got her hand on his arm, face all serious like she gets sometimes when she has something she really wants him to hear.

"It's not _nothing_ to be here…it's the hardest part, and the most important. She needs a reason to wake up Daryl…and God knows the rest of us haven't given her much of one."

She looks down guilt still obviously eating at her after what Lizzie did out in the woods…to both of them…

"I can't…" His chest aches every time he sits here in the silence.

"Don't give me that crap."

He stares down at her a bit dumbfounded by her outburst while she continues berating him in that soft voice.

"You can't run from this, it's going to hurt; and you know what? You're strong enough to deal with it."

He blinks, has to look away.

"You want to love someone? Earn their love back? Then you do the hard stuff too; not just the easy bits…you don't get to pick and choose when to feel. It doesn't work that way; one foot in and one foot out, that isn't honest, not for her and not for you."

He can't help but think of her abusive husband. And his asshole brother…using them over and over, he loved his brother…and he poisoning him against the whole world; against himself…

"She's good for you. He wasn't." Her fingers squeeze around his arm briefly. Somehow knowing already when his thoughts have slipped off to a dark place.

She keeps her hand there for a second 'til he nods finally; moves to sit down on the carpet beside the bed. Places his elbow against his bent knee, raising his hand to fidget with a hangnail while he stares down at her behind him on the bed, face pale and still.

"I'll tell Sasha to check on her while we're gone."

"Be careful."

She slips out leaving him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

_(F_in's POV)

* * *

I slowly rise up to consciousness; someone's hand is pressed to mine…

Our fingers laced tightly together.

I try to draw in a careful breath…relax a bit when it doesn't bring the agonizing stab I expected to accompany it…

_That's a small relief at least. _

My back still aches and throbs with every heartbeat.

_Now, to figure out where I am; and who's hand I'm holding…or who is holding my hand I guess would be more accurate since I was asleep moments before…_

My brain drifts for a bit longer before I manage to open my eyes.

I lay still staring up at the pale blue painted wall on my right.

_Huh. I don't remember that._

Someone is snoring softly as well…

I turn my head carefully; slowly, pleased when the action doesn't result in more than a mild discomfort on my right side.

Daryl seems to be sitting on the floor judging by the wild mop of dark brown hair, his fingers laced through mine on the bedspread by my hip; his head rested on his forearm, just flat out. Breathing slow and even, with the lightest hint of sound to it.

I stare at him for a few minutes, let the sound of his breathing sooth me almost back to sleep…

He must be exhausted; why isn't he sleeping like a normal person? Would it kill him to get some rest, lay down for once…just like in the woods. _Stubborn idiot._

_He probably says the same thing about me…_

I try to sit up. I need to move over so he can lie down too…he's obviously tired…needs rest…

His head jerks up off the bed, eyes instantly locking onto my face.

He twists his back away from the side of the bed where it was half leaned, gets up onto what must be his knees.

"Don't move."

I'd ask him why but the pain that just hit me clearly answered that question.

"Mika…" I barely recognize my own voice, have to swallow a few times to sooth the scratchy sensation centered in my throat. I feel like I haven't spoken for days…that can't be right…

"She's okay, she's in the other room; _resting_."

_I think there's a chastising in there somewhere…_

"I'm okay,"

He snorts in response. "Might have been helpful to tell us you'd been stabbed: Twice, before you passed out from blood loss."

"I had to take care of Mika."

"And what about you?" Anger has crept into his tone.

"I'm still talking to you aren't I?"

He huffs an unhappy sound. Gets up the rest of the way grabbing a mug off a table or desk near the bed; I don't turn my head to see where; it's kind of painful.

"Sit up."

He helps me, it's surprisingly difficult.

I'm momentarily distracted by the IV in my arm…the bag of saline hanging on the wall…hooked over a knife embedded in the dry wall of all the ridiculous things.

His eyes follow mine up to the knife hilt for a moment, he lifts the cup to my lips, palm cupping the back of my neck stopping any argument I might make.

"Drink this."

He keeps holding the cup, not trusting my fingers to support the weight…which honestly might be a wise choice; I'm not so sure they're all that trustworthy right now either.

He helps me lay back after I've finished the cup.

"Get some rest."

I'm not tired…

I just slept for God only knows how long...it feels like days.

I stare up at the ceiling, feel his fingers slip through mine again; try to open my mouth to tell him to get on the bed; sleep properly before he gets a terrible crick in his neck…

But my tongue feels really thick suddenly; and my eyes unbelievably heavy

…_and wow…either he knows something I don't about mixing herbs in tea…or he put something else in that cup because…._

_I'm out._

* * *

_Notes: Thanks Guys! Happy (almost) spaghetti Tuesday!_


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

When I open my eyes again it's finally without a great and terrible effort.

I maintain the shallow breathes for a few minutes before I try to move. Make sure that the room isn't going to do anything crazy like spin or blur or twirl about.

I've had about as much of that as I can stand.

I sit up slowly, look around and try to stifle the disappointment of being alone.

I have no idea what time it is; or where anyone else is…since I'm alone though I might as well try to assess my own damage…

I turn carefully, slide to the edge of the bed with some minor pain…so far so good; the room is still in focus.

I chalk that up to the win category.

I keep my bare feet flat on the floor; toes scrunching experimentally in the worn carpet. I glance down; notice my toe nails are still painted a ridiculous bright red. Frown as my own fingers catch my attention…someone painted them red as well to match…

_What the..?_

The bruises and shallow slices that were crisscrossed over my bare forearms are almost gone, only a few of the really deep-dark marks above my elbows still hold much color…and even those are faded to a more subtle green-blue.

_How long was I asleep?_

I try to move my right arm; find that my elbow is tied to my waist with a strip of cloth ripped from something…the small movement I do manage pulls along my clavicle just enough to be uncomfortable; but not agonizing.

After Lizzie tried to stab me in the throat and missed I probably had a nice hole to deal with; since I'm alive and awake she must have missed my lung and Carol must be a fast learner with open wounds.

_Mika…I need to check on Mika…_her name skitters through my brain, pulling me up to my feet.

I have to pause, something tugging at the inside of my other elbow…the IV…right.

It's surprisingly difficult to disconnect one from your own arm with one hand…I fumble with the cap for a moment before successfully freeing myself, rolling down the stopper on the line to keep the clear liquid from running out onto the bed.

Now I can go check on Mika.

But where is she?

I blink at my surroundings again; I seem to be in one of the children's bedrooms…the one with only one bed, a boys room; which was furthest down the short hallway if I recall.

…my sleeping bag is on the floor unrolled at the end of the bed…someone has been sleeping in here while I was out of it…based on the rumpled grey shirt dropped on the floor next to it I think I know who.

So maybe Mika is in the other room still with Molly?

I move towards the door to the room; pleased when the dizzy spell doesn't start. I have to use my left hand to pull open the door my right one still secured by a strip of fabric around my upper arm and chest.

The hallway is empty too; I can hear voices in the front room…Carol's it sounds like…and must be Sasha's… I'm not sure where the others are.

I pad quietly across the carpet, the door to the other room is cracked, I push it open further with my hand, slip inside when I see her on the bed.

I push it carefully shut behind me, not completely…I don't want to make too much noise.

She looks healthy at least, she's got better color then I do most likely.

There's an IV bag hanging off a coat hanger, attached to a hook in the wall that looks like it was originally intended to hang a child's decorative painting…probably the one now leaned against the far wall.

Hydration is a little more important than Winnie the Pooh.

I move closer to her, check her pulse; pull the blankets back to check her bandages.

"You're alive," I start in surprise, worried for a second that someone has come in behind me and I didn't hear them; until my eyes darting up to find her staring at me.

"Yeah, you too."

She stares at me still half asleep. "Thank you, for not telling them it was really me." Her voice is so quiet I have to lean down again to hear it…such a vastly different child then her sister.

"It's okay, you're secret is safe with me."

She smiles softly, eyes slipping shut again. "So is yours…"

I stare down at her soft even breathing; obviously she's drifted back to sleep now, might not have really been awake to begin with…Tobin used to talk in his sleep…

_God._ I take a slow deep breath.

_My secret is in the hands of a traumatized 10 year old girl._

I turn my head at the sound of the door opening behind me, half expecting it to be Daryl chewing me out for being up.

_But it's Worse._

"Oh no you don't," Carol is in the doorway behind me.

"I just need to check her…"

"No you don't." She gently grabs my good arm, helps pull me upright to my feet; voice gentle. "You're as thick headed as he is."

I blink, tilt my chin trying to understand the expression on her face, I'm not sure what to say to that.

She nods her head towards the door. "Come on. Sasha and I can take care of this; you need to rest."

That's all I've been doing…I don't even know how long it's been…

She's leading me back down the hall; trying to put me back in bed…

_Oh Dear lord…I'm getting mothered._

_What the hell happened while I was passed out?_

She's just gotten me to lie back down when Sasha comes in with a coffee mug smiling when she sees me awake.

_If only it was coffee in there I'd be smiling too._

"Yeah I miss coffee too."

I blink at Carol in confusion. She smiles taking the mug from Sasha's hands.

"No you didn't say it out loud; but I know that look, and I can completely sympathize with missing coffee."

"This was labeled for pain." She dips her head to the tea indicating the drink in my mug.

"Daryl double checked it…" she smiles softly looking down, "And then triple checked it just to make sure."

"I don't understand."

Sasha has already scooted out the door Carol watches her leave, turns her attention back to me for several moments; perhaps not sure what to say either…

I'm not sure she's going to speak again when Carol turns her face away from me again, takes a slow breath. "He's obviously very sweet on you; he's barely left your side since you went out cold in the kitchen…Don't think I've ever seen him that upset actually." She frowns down at her hands in her lap.

I swallow some of the tepid liquid, needing something to do with my own hands.

"You're good for him, so you'd better start taking better care of yourself."

This from the women who days ago threatened to slit my throat…these people have a funny way of interacting with each other.

She stands up, moves to leave the room pauses at the door again.

"I'm sorry about Lizzie…I know she did terrible things…I know she wasn't my daughter…but I've done things in my life I'm ashamed of; and I guess a small part of me thought if I could save her I could maybe redeem myself. I'm sorry you got hurt over my foolishness."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize to me. I'm sorry for a lot of things too."

It's an ugly world; full of ugly people doing terrible things…I can't fault someone for wanting something better; hoping and praying for a silver lining.

_We could all use a bit more of that._

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**Notes: **

Alright that's three chapters I give unto you! :D

Fin's alive, But so many questions still! What's Mika's secret? anyone want to guess?

And who painted Fin's fingernails?! muhahaha!


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer **Not mine, sadness!

**Notes: **_One quick chapter this morning, I'm trying to wrangle Fin and Daryl into cooperating in the next one but they're not having it, might end up being a drabble post later... :P_

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Five**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

When I open my eyes again he's back in the room, not holding my hand this time…just leaning against the mattresses edge back to me. His head bent forward over something he's looking at maybe…or possibly asleep again…

I barely hurt...which is magnificent…and also perplexing.

I lift my hand, let my fingers slide through his hair briefly then fall back to the bed. He jumps at my touch; turns immediately, not asleep obviously—or not heavily at least.

"What did you give me?" It's pretty obvious I've got something else in my system what with the being able to sit up without the white hot knife of agony stabbing me in the chest.

"Percocet and morphine."

_Well that would do it._

"Where?"

"Clinic, Carol found it before…they made a another run for some things; IV bags, medication it was a pretty small place so they didn't have a lot; but almost all of it was overlooked; probably because it was in the middle of nowhere."

"Antibiotics?"

"In the IV bag already; and Mika's."

"How is she?"

_I need to check her again…_

"She's alright, she's got Carol looking after her day and night. She had a slight fever two days ago but it broke after the antibiotics, no sign of infection I checked her myself with Carol this morning."

_Part of what he says tugs at my foggy brain…two days…?_

"How long have I been out?"

He looks like he doesn't want to answer that. "Almost two weeks."

_Holy Shit. No wonder he looks so tired. _

"When was the last time you got a decent amount of sleep?" He can't be getting good rest if he's falling asleep sitting up all the time…

"I'm fine." He looks away.

_I frown at him; that's my line. I _reach out and let my hand encircle his arm, tugging him towards me; I'd scoot over but without the use of my other arm that's pretty impossible right now.

"What are you doing?" I keep my fingers around his wrist, tug him closer.

He follows my soft pull one knee coming up onto the bed by my hip, hand bracing his weight near my head.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor."

"I don't want to hurt you, what if I move in my sleep?"

"Don't care,"

He stares down at me, face unreadable in the dark shadows with his back to the small amount of light coming through the window. He gets over whatever internal struggle he's having, shake his head.

"Fine," he relents, "but I'll stay on top…" He takes in my grin halfway through his sentence blushes furious and fast even in the dark, "…of the covers" he finishes a little more clipped. His eyes looking away from me. "Stop."

I can't help the snicker that slips out…_probably the drugs…_

He moves over me, lies down stretched out next to the wall, his breath huffs out against my neck…tickling my skin when my soft laughter continues.

"Calm down or I'll go."

I wrap my fingers around his forearm draped gently over my waist.

"No you won't." I twist to face him very carefully but it doesn't hurt all that much with the drugs. He pulls back; leans away just enough that when I'm lying on my side no part of us is touching.

He doesn't look away…I keep expecting it…his features are so serious.

He doesn't reply either his eyes slide from mine down to my lips but he doesn't move until I do. When I lean towards him, good arm raising to grip his shirt his lips brush mine ever so soft, a barely there caress.

If his hands were wrapped around me right now, touching any part of me I'd probably be ready to rip his clothes off already; life threatening injuries and drugs be damned.

He pulls back before I can deepen the kiss, nose almost touching mine. His eyes a deep dark cobalt in the low light, small flecks of brightened blue swirling around his iris visible as my eyes adjust to the darkness more and more.

My stomach flips and my heartbeat picks up, just from the brush of his lips; from lying close to him. The maddening desire to tell him I love him suddenly wells up in my chest. I almost open my mouth before I catch myself…_stupid drugs_.

I settle for something safer, his own words: "Stay, Please."

His eyes slip shut when I whisper it, his lips sliding back over mine impossibly more gentle then they were the first time his palm sliding over my cheek, the tips of his fingers feather light against my neck, thumb tracing my cheekbone. His breath warm against my lips when he pulls away again, much too soon.

I groan in disapproval at his absence.

"We have to stop; before we do something stupid."

"_Like tear each other's clothes off and fuck like bunnies?"_

He snorts, actually looks amused for a moment, "Yeah like that."

_Oh, yeah…said that out loud._

_Must be some great drugs._

"Either sleep or I'm getting up."

"Oh _Really?!"_

He curses softly; tells me to 'quit it' again.

_It's not my fault everything he says sounds dirty_

_I'm all loopy on fantastically strong drugs…_

"Seraphim; go to sleep."

I sigh. Just enough functioning brain-power left to know nothing is going to happen tonight…or for a while probably with my injuries.

"What about Rick and the others?"

"whadda mean?" He frowns.

"It's been two weeks…"

Longer even since we left to find Glenn and the others.

"Maggie must be losing her mind."

_I can't imagine not knowing where Daryl is for two weeks, just thinking it makes my chest ache…_

"It's taken care of; we're not that far from home now. Glenn and Tyreese made a run to the Warehouse a few days ago; let them know where we are and what happened. Michonne and Maggie both wanted to come back with them; help us move everyone. But Carol and I think it's safer for you and Mika to wait a little longer. Sasha is back at the warehouse with Molly, and Tyreese. Glenn brought Maggie back with him, though I think that was more because she wouldn't let him out of her sight again…"

_It could take weeks for Mika to be back on her feet…every time they go out to get food; medicine they're risking their lives. _

I shake my head.

"We need to move, it's safer there; we can't stay here for weeks through the winter." His family needs to be together again, and we've got to be running low on water and gas supplies if they're going on runs...

"I'll bring it up with everyone tomorrow; we can probably move Mika if we're very careful; I was already thinking we couldn't wait another week before we made the move; too exposed out here, and I don't like having the group in two places. If we lay her out in the back of the station wagon by herself; or with just Maggie…"

He actually yawns.

_When the fuck did he last sleep; really sleep?_

"You look exhausted."

"I've been worried half to death about your ass, what did you expect?"

I stare at him in shock…not that he was worried; that's a completely different emotion...mostly guilt…no; more that he would admit it _out loud_.

Maybe it's the darkness hiding us that makes him brave enough to say it…

_Or maybe it's almost losing me yet again that's gotten to him_…I tamp down that thought and the knots it brings with it.

His arm tucks around my back, pulls me closer to him 'til I'm tucked up against his chest, my good arm sliding over his side, slipping under the back of his shirt to feel warm skin under my fingertips.

His voice slips over me, telling me to sleep again.

My eyelids are significantly heavier than they were a minute ago…_must be the drugs._

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Don't own them**

**Notes: **_Yikes! _

_So I realize it has been a long time between updates! _

_We had a huge ice storm move through and lost all power; _

_Actually had a giant oak in our back yard fall that pulled all the _

_power/internet/phone lines off the house and did a bunch_

_ of damage to our fences and yard...so it's been a giant _

_mess here...not to mention no power, internet, no Heat! _

_It's been about 4 days of 40 degrees in my house...and dark! _

_lol Not exactly good writing motivation, unless you want lots _

_and lots of angsty angry characters (I do think someone _

_requested more of that lol) so I'm a bit behind _

_where I wanted to get these characters by now; So here's _

_Chapters 46-48...I'm working on 49 right now and hoping to _

_start 50 tomorrow. We are staying at a friends house two _

_hours from home but are hoping to have power sometime _

_t__omorrow night. Reviews/PM's are greatly appreciated! _

_Sorry for the wait and I hope you Enjoy it! :) _

_As always You guys rock! Keep it up! xD_

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Six**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I slowly drift up from the heavy blanket of sleep keeping me in the dark.

The sun is actually up when I open my eyes, it filters through the half closed curtains of the bedroom window. Daryl's warm breath tickles the back of my neck.

I must have twisted in my sleep; turned. I'm quite certain I remember falling asleep facing him; my face pressed against the soft skin of his neck; the warm cotton of his t-shirt against my cheek. But he's against my back now, spooned around my frame; one arm still draped loosely over my side, every deep breath he takes in sleep moves against my back, pressing his chest to mine.

My shoulder throbs; but it's not terrible considering I haven't had any medication in hours—course I haven't attempted to move yet either…that could be a whole different story.

He starts to wake when I shift under the covers; too many damn blankets between his chest and mine, I have to twist carefully with only one good arm—my right still tethered to my waist with that annoying cloth.

His eyes are still closed when I press my lips to his; but the sound he makes low in his chest the way his hand flexes—presses into my back pulling me flush to him chest to chest tells me he's clearly awake.

His other hand works its way under my body; wraps around my shoulders as I press soft quick kisses to his lips; then to the corners of his mouth, around his jaw which needs a shave. I hum against his skin mind still slightly foggy with pain killers and sleep; momentarily distracted with the rough scratch of his skin against mine.

His arm is wrapped around my shoulders now, the other still braced against my low back, he rolls onto his back pulls me up twisting so I'm laying half over his chest, keeping the pressure of my weight off my shoulder fabulously. My one good arm has come up instinctively to brace against his bicep help me keep my balance; though with both his arms holding me I don't really need it.

"Okay?" his lips barely leave mine for the word to escape.

I answer him with another kiss—this time using my new leverage to tilt his chin up with my free hand, angle my mouth over his, my tongue slipping past his teeth shifting over him keeping the upper hand at least for this moment in our embrace. He lets me lead him, keeps his mouth soft undermine, hands gentle on my back holding me up as carefully as possible.

I sigh in frustration when he slides his fingers through my hair, tugs gently at my braid breaking the kiss far too soon…my pulse was just starting to hum, my insides tingle and heat.

"Can't do this, not right now," His lips brush mine again as he says it, clearly wanting to continue…

"I want you though," I press my lips to his again, he shifts us brilliantly. Twists till I'm the one with my shoulders on the bed, his fingers tilting my chin up, curling around the nape of my neck while he dips into my mouth, tongue plundering mine; stealing my breath away.

I gasp in pain when I shift wrong trying to get closer to him. He stops instantly, pulling back at the sound.

"I want you too, but not like this…and not with Glenn n' Maggie's ears pressed to the damn door." He growls the last part over his shoulder; accent thicker with his agitation.

_Oh._

There's the definite sound of feet hustling it back down the hallway.

I blush; cover my eyes with one hand. He keeps glaring at the door for a moment, then shifts his attention back to me.

"Maggie was probably trying to bring you more pain meds."

He doesn't pull away from me, lips quirk into an almost grin for a second when I pull my hand away and look at him again.

"We should get up,"

He leans back, slides over me one leg at a time carefully to stand next to the bed. "Do you want me to bring you the medicine?"

He's trying to save me from going out there to see Glenn and Maggie, being embarrassed.

But I'm not embarrassed to be kissing him. I shake my head; slide off the bed slowly when he pulls away to stand, keep my hand on his proffered arm for a moment making sure my balance is good after the drugs.

"Nah, then I might miss a chance to grab your ass in front of Glenn and watch him spit cheerio's all over the kitchen." I'm only half joking, fully expecting him to get flustered and bolt; he surprises me again.

"Shit. Don't do that I aint given him no damn Heimlich thing." He follows me towards the door, no blush in sight.

"If he chokes we'll let Maggie do it."

"If she's not too busy spiting her cereal out too."

I'm halfway to the door before I process what he's just said. I'm starting to wonder if I'm the only one on drugs: _Daryl teasing?_

_I might be hallucinating…_

_One way to find out._

"That sounds like a challenge." I pause at the door braid flipping over my shoulder as I twist to stare back at him, grin widening.

He stares down at me, eyes drop to my lips for a second before he curses softly, shakes his head. "Don't freak them out too much."

"No sex on the kitchen countertop then?"

His eyes go wide, a huff of laughter barks out of him before he turns his head blushing the way I originally expected him to. But his reply has me blushing right back. "Get out there before I change my mind 'n drag your smartass back to bed."

_Holy Shit._ I have never heard him use that voice before, all soft and sexy and _Dear God I don't think I want food anymore…_

"Seraphim,"

"Wha?"

His eyebrows raise just the slightest bit, lips twisting at the corners.

"Food. Now."

_Right. I can't remember the last time I ate actually…I think it was the night Lizzie died._ We all ate together in the kitchen before their 'council meeting minus a few members'.

_Okay, food is probably a good idea._ I pull the door open and step out into the hallway, Daryl right on my heels.

Maggie and Glenn are sitting at the kitchen table, Carol is standing over the sink; Mika's door is open when we pass it; she's looks sound asleep on the bed when I glance inside.

Daryl grabs my good shoulder; steers me past it's opening towards the kitchen keeping me on track. His gruff "Later," keeps me from arguing with him.

"You're up, how are you feeling?" Carol grabs two plates when she sees us.

Glenn and Maggie look up, I can practically feel Glenn's grin from across the room.

_Guy probably sucks at Poker._

"Not as bad as I could be." I offer. "I'd like to check Mika, see if we can move her back home."

Carol is putting bowls on the table, bringing over a box of cereal and putting it on the table. Not Cheerios, something chocolaty; I approve. I grab the box, open it and pour some into my bowl with one hand, we have to eat it dry but its chocolate so who gives a shit?

My stomach protests slightly at the odd choice for a first meal after days with nothing.

"Go easy on that, you'll make yourself sick." Carol sets a glass of water in front of me, I pick it up and drink it down greedily. "Where did you go to school?" She sits down next to Maggie, hands folded on the table.

"South Carolina for pre-med and midwifery, then Portland for my ND."

"ND?" Maggie is looking at me.

"Yeah it's a doctor of Naturopathic Medicine. I spent four years learning homeopathic remedies and drugs; that's how I know what plants to use half the time."

"You learned to be a midwife? Could you teach me?" Maggie is staring at me.

"Yeah, do you know someone that's pregnant?" I stare at her over my bowl, wondering if it might be her…

"No, but we lost Lori; Rick's wife…I had to do a C-section on her…"

_Daryl didn't mention that part…_I cringe. _That's a terrible way to die. No wonder he was freaked out at the thought of me getting pregnant._

"I'd be happy to teach you, Maggie."

Daryl's on his second bowl…I can't picture him eating chocolate cereal…but there he is…I wonder if he's just that hungry or if he actually likes it.

"What?"

I must be staring at him. "Nothing,"

"Can't be nuthin' with you grinning like that."

"You eating Count Chocula kinda explodes my brain."

He stares down at his bowl, pokes at the dry cereal with his spoon. "Didn't get to eat this shit as a kid,"

Yeah I'd imagine not.

I push my bowl away feeling a little sick. Maybe I should stick to water. I take another slow sip from the glass in front of me. Frowning as my stomach churns.

"Okay?" Daryl's watching me.

"Yeah, think I'm going to go check on Mika." I get up and he's right behind me, abandoning his bowl half-finished on the table. I stand still for a moment, feel like I'm going to be sick…

I should know better than to try to eat chocolate cereal on an empty stomach after so many pain killers.

"Fin; Last time you turned that color you passed out."

"He's right you need to go lie back down." Carol is staring at me over the table top, eyes concerned. She looks ready to jump up and grab me too but Daryl is right behind me, one hand slipping around my waist.

I shake my head slowly, stomach starting to calm down. "I'm okay, just a lot of sugar on an empty stomach."

"That's Glenn's fault," Maggie's soft southern inflections soften a bit on her husband's name, she's shaking her head at him. "Don't know if he was happier see'n me or sugared cereal again."

"Definitely you. Cereal is a close second."

"You should lie down." He's right behind me still.

"No, Mika first, I have to know if we can move her," …and how soon.

I can tell he isn't happy with the long pause he takes before answering me. "Okay,"

We move towards the hallway, Mika is still fast asleep. Carol joins us in her room, Maggie and Glenn stay in the front room; It's not that big of a space anyway.

"Everything looks really good." No fever good pulse and refill time, skin isn't even red around the wounds… "You missed your calling, you should have been an ND."

Carol flushes under my compliment. "Never got to go to school, got married right outta high school and that was the end of that."

"You should learn too, just as important as being able to defend yourself; being able to fix things when shit happens." And it happens a lot in this world.

"It's probably okay to move her; she seems stable and wound is already healing, We could probably use the sleeping bag like a litter; carry her out to the car, if we lay her across the backseat we can keep her stomach as still as possible." Carol is nodding with my suggestion.

"I'd feel safer back with everyone else, if a herd moves here we'd be in trouble quick; and we can't move her fast in an emergency."

_If a herd moved through I'd know it…though they've kept me so heavily drugged maybe not…_

"You should get some rest."

"Not yet, I'd like to get cleaned up first."

C_hange clothes, brush my teeth; I feel disgusting._

"Come on then." Daryl helps me stand from my seated position next to Mika's bedside. Leaving Carol to sit with her after a quick nod of his head.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer**: Not mine! Too bad : P

**Notes: **It's an M chapter! Muhahahaha!

I tried to tell them no; look, fin is injured,

just stick to the plot guys we've got so

much to do still there's no time for this!

But I lost… : / yeah...

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

_(Fin POV)_

* * *

"Come on then." Daryl helps me stand from my seated position next to Mika's bedside. Leaving Carol to sit with her after a quick nod of his head.

He takes me back down the hallway, across the living room ignoring Glenn and Maggie's curious glances to the master bedroom we originally slept in shutting the door behind us.

I note it doesn't look slept in now…unless someone is in the habit of making their bed every morning.

The toothpaste is on the counter still and the toothbrush I found previously in the drawer, Daryl waits for me to brush my teeth, rinse my mouth before taking the brush from the counter top and doing the same.

It's kinda domestic.

A flash of red catches my eye in the mirror. I glance down at my hand.

_That reminds me…_

"So who painted my fingernails while I was out of it?"

He's rinsing his mouth, pauses for a second at my question; not meeting my eyes in the mirror when he answers finally. "Molly."

That makes sense I guess; she did a surprisingly good job keeping it in the lines. I'll have to tell her thanks.

I'm picking at the knot over my elbow, trying to pry it loose so I can clean up, Daryl notes me frustration and growls. "Get over here."

He grabs my free hand, leads me over to the sink countertop. Hands coming around my waist, tightening carefully over my hips so he can lift me up to sit on its surface; cool on my skin even through my pants. His fingers start working the knot; open on the fabric sling holding my arm against my side.

My breath shouldn't catch, heartbeat shouldn't speed up just because the back of his knuckles brush the inside of my arm as he works the fabric loose…His eyes dart to mine for a second, darkening like he knows…_maybe he does_.

He slides the fabric from around my waist and sets it on the countertop while I move my elbow slowly away from my side, testing to see how much it pulls at my shoulder. He waits watching my face for signs of pain I guess. When I let my arm rest against my side again satisfied that I'm in significantly better shape than I was two weeks ago he nods his head.

I think he might leave me to finish cleaning myself up, but I should know better by now.

My breath catches again when he lifts his hands to grab the hem of my tank top lifting it up and over her head I raise my arms enough that he can slide the fabric off them, he stops when it's still over my upper arms, presses my elbows back to my side keeping the now stretched fabric of my tank top over my chest leaving my shoulders and my back exposed.

He slides his hands over and carefully around the skin of the wound just under my right clavicle. "Okay?"

I blush under his gaze, nod.

"Yeah other than the fact that I could seriously use a shower." I don't want to think about how long it's been since I got cleaned up, it's horrifying.

He steps away for a second, grabs the plastic bucket off the tub's edge; dips it into water still left in the tub and brings it back to set on the countertop. I watch him pick up a folded washcloth and dip it in the water, wringing it out in his hands.

"What are you doing?" My voice is quiet; not quite a whisper.

"Shower's not working anymore, not enough water left in the pipes I guess."

No electricity to draw more up the well either.

"I can do that." I flush. He doesn't answer slips the washcloth over my shoulder, carefully.

I jump a little.

"Sorry, that hurt?"

"Uh no…just cold." A shiver works its way down my spine as if for emphasis…though it has more to do with the way he's looking at me, and my state of undress then the cold cloth pressed to my skin.

And I guess he knows that too cause he's lean into me the next second. His lips sliding over mine fingertips griping my chin gently. His tongue slips into my mouth sliding over mine, palm of one hand smoothing down my spine slowly before carefully pulling me to the edge of the counter parting my legs with his knee so he can step between my thighs press the growing hardness under his belt against my center.

I sigh against his mouth bring my good hand up to grip his shoulder, my other hand very carefully placed against his chest, fingers grabbing his t-shirt.

He pulls back and I groan in a flash of frustration. "Don't you dare tell me we can't do this, not if you're going to kiss me like that…"

He shakes his head trying to pull away from my fingers fisted in his shirt front. "We can't, I don't want to hurt you."

_I'm about to hurt him. _

My whole body is practically on fire; tingles and sparks racing along my limbs with my pulse. Desire curls through every nerve in my body, wriggles its way down my spine to pool more wet aching heat, trembling in my womb when his fingers trace back up my back, ghost over my ribs and up under my shirt briefly sliding over my breasts. I can't catch my breath with him touching me…can still feel the imprint of his lips on mine.

I toss the shirt away, yank him back against me, wrapping my legs around his waist so he can't pull back; ignore the pain in my shoulder. "Daryl if you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to go out of my mind."

He curses, hands framing my face; breath ragged against my ear. "Say that again."

"What that I want you to _fuck me_?"

His whole body virtually shudders in reaction; lips crashing into mine. His hands keep me captive, controlling the angle of his lips over mine, letting him slant over me, angle into my mouth making me moan into his kiss. My pelvis grinds against his, slipping almost off the edge of the counter with a sharp inhale of surprise when he bites my lip.

His hands move to my waist, steady me even as his mouth moves more aggressively over mine, fingers deftly removing the buttons at my waist, tugging them open so his hand can slip inside between us, palm cupping me, through thin wet lace. Groaning his approval against my mouth finding me already wet are ready for him, rocking against his hand desperate for more.

His mouth stifling my own gasp, swallowing up my moan of his name and the curse that slips out when his fingers press into me, sliding under the lace edge and curling against my core, finding the perfect angle to send lightning bolts racing up my spine.

He tears his mouth from mine breathing harsh and fast against my lips. The palm of one hand framing my face thumb brushing over my skin in slow gentle circles even as his other fingers pump roughly inside me making me shudder and moan.

"This is such a bad idea." But he doesn't stop; groans a split second later at the way his name tumbles from me on a soft breathless moan.

His hands tighten, fingers pumping faster through my heat making me buck towards his invasion, cursing and trembling against his palm, tightening around his fingers.

"Fuck me please…" I cry out in protest when his fingers jerk away from me, but then my feet are on the tile floor, and my pants jerked down my hips so roughly I almost stumble.

The sudden movement pulling enough at my sense of balance that I'm glad my hands are still on his shirt; it helps me not crash to the ground between my weak knees and the total distraction of his fingers plunging into me again. I curse and buck against his hand while he's spreading more heat and wetness against my folds.

My head dips back, and I have to bit my lip to keep from crying out; we don't want the others to hear us...

I jerk my head up again, gasping against his chest when he closes the few inches between us. He lifts me up to sit on the freezing cold countertop again, hands moving over his own clothing, sliding his pants down his hips, not taking the time to fully remove them in our haste.

My palms press to the flat surface, scoot my hips carefully to the edge so that when he straightens I can wrap my thighs around his hips yanking him flush to my heat. I dip my hand between us to grip him; feel him jump and twitch under my palm. Tight heavy heat under my hand as I slide my palm over his length, feel him curse, hips pressing him further into my grip.

I lean into his chest, press my lips to his neck tongue flicking out to tease his ear while he shudders in my hand, jerks and curses when I slide him over my heat. The second I have him aligned with my center his hips leap forward driving him into me; not all the way just enough to steal my breath, halt all thought and have me clinging to his shoulders with both arms now, gasping against his shirt.

"Fuck, yes…." My womb clenches at his exclamation, my whole body shuddering when he thrusts again driving himself all the way into me with a harsh grunt of my name.

_Jesus. Oh god…_

He's perfectly still inside me, trying to catch his own breath; and yet I'm already so close to the edge I can practically taste it…feel the sparks building at the base of my spine. Thick waves of pleasure are curling through my stomach, zipping up my spine with each twitch of his cock between my walls. The happy nerve endings spinning and twirling around in my brain in a crazy spark inducing almost electric and primitive reaction to his touch makes it impossible to think any further then the feel of his hot thick velvet soft skin buried to the hilt in my sex slicked folds…stretching me so tight it's almost painful, filling me till I swear I can feel him against my back in this position.

If he was any bigger this position might hurt…instead just his thick weight filling me is enough to make me quivering deep in my core, womb clenching and seizing with flutters of pleasure around his presence.

I shudder against him, around him; bury my face against his neck and gasp his name in awe.

He's still not moving and God I'm so close already…can't stand it…might go insane if I don't feel him pounding deep inside me, spreading me with each thrust, filling me; claiming me as he cums hard hopefully screaming my name…

Except we need to be quiet with everyone in the other room.

I bite my lip on the tremor that races from his throbbing cock deep in my belly, bolting up my spine, bursting behind my eyes in bright color...

Fuck it I don't care.

"Daryl, Please," He groans against my neck. "Please fuck me…"

His hips leap forward, my ass shoved backwards across the countertop with the strength of his rough thrust. He hands drop to cup my ass yanking me to the edge again, flush against him. His hands pinning me against the counter.

His gaze locks with mine, holding me captive to the wash of emotion that flashes through them as he drives himself into me with harsh short strokes. My toes curl behind his back, legs shake with the pleasure that sweeps through my core with every thrust. It rockets through me with every slam of his hips against mine making me almost dizzy it's so overwhelming.

I realize I'm cursing, and praising him all in the same breath, begging him not to stop, while his eyes slip shut and his pace picks up.

There's a damn good chance I'll have trouble walking tomorrow and I couldn't give a shit because his cock swells inside me telling me he's close and I'm right there on the edge just waiting for one more little thing to push me…

His thumb dips to circle my clit, rubbing between us in tight circles until I explode from the contact.

My shoulders fall back against the mirror when my hands lose their grip on the counter's edge, my balance tumbling out of my control with the swirling fireworks exploding behind my eyes. I'm barely cognizant of the pain the shoots through my chest and back at the rough treatment I've just given my injuries; too focused on the white hot pleasure stealing my breath to care.

A small still functioning part of my brain tells me that that should have hurt like hell.

I don't feel anything but blissful release though; totally engrossed in the pleasure arching through my whole body spasming and twitching around his continuously thrusting cock.

I'm completely distracted watching the expression on his face as he follows me quickly over the edge, head tipping back trying to drag in more air as every muscle in his body seizes in reckless pleasure.

Glorious bolts of desire arc along my spine lighting my nerves on fire with each twisting jerk of his hips as he spills his release with a harsh cry finally leaning forward over me as he finishes. After a moment's pause he's dropping his head to my chest cursing, trembling and shaking.

His hands slide up my spine gathering my back up, pulling me back against him as he straightens; holding me captive against his chest while we try to catch our breath and slow our racing hearts together.

He's still occasionally cursing softly against my neck when I start to gather my wits enough to recognize words once more.

"Shouldn't have done that, fuck…I could have hurt you…Jesus why do you have to feel so good."

Desire jolts down my spine at his words makes me seize, flutter around him.

He inhales sharply when he feels it, which amuses me a little bit. I bite my lip flex my inner muscles and hear and feel him curse, jerking inside me in response.

"Fuck! Fin, you do'n that on purpose?" His accent is heavy and thick against my neck hands gripping my waist reflexively in shock.

I nod against his chest feel his breath against my ear as he curses again pulling a soft laugh out of me.

"Not that I don't like it but; stop that."

I do it once more just to feel him jump again; then jerk his head down to kiss away his next outburst before he can voice it.

And now I _really _need a shower.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Daryl's in those slightly too large black jeans again and a clean shirt he snagged out of the dresser with some band name on it, shoving the rest of our clothes into a bag to take with us.

I pause in the middle of pulling on another clean tank top from the dresser when he pulls it on; the whole outfit throwing my brain for a loop. For a second I can picture him in the real world; not the one we live in; but the one we all lost. I can see him doing completely normal things like driving a car and going to work and listening to music…something other than struggling to survive day to day.

I should ask him sometime.

I pull the other oversized shirt over my head, it leaves a lot of my arms exposed; but at least it keeps my shoulder and the space above my elbow covered; not that I haven't been in a tank top for the last probably two weeks…if they haven't noticed my scars by now…at least no one's brought it up.

Still a few hours left of daylight, half a day at least by my guess.

"Think we could move today?"

He stares at me, puzzling it over. Nodding.

When we leave the room again, feeling on my part at least more human and definitely more relaxed Glenn and Maggie are on the couch. Maggie's legs tossed over Glenn's as they're both reading something.

Glenn looks up and sees us with a huge grin. "What's up guys?"

_Real smooth Glenn…course we weren't all that quiet either._

Even Maggie is grinning.

_Oh Good Lord, Like these people have never had sex._

"Think we could pack everything and get out of here this afternoon?"

Maggie's brow furrows. "Yeah, definitely, but are you sure that's necessary? We could wait another day…"

"Water's getting low anyway, and one day isn't going to make that much difference."

"I can make an injection to give to Mika; keep her asleep for the trip."

Daryl nods to me, starts helping Maggie and Glenn load up the few things we should take with us back to the warehouse. Carol joins them a short time later; then leaves them to finish helping me at the kitchen counter dissolving medications and steeping leaves.

"We put this in her IV and it will make sure she's stays asleep; that way if the road is really bumpy or we have to do some evasive driving," which God I hope not… "she shouldn't feel it."

Carol nods, glances over her shoulder at Daryl who's been standing behind us now for a few minutes watching us work.

"Almost ready to go?"

He nods his head, "Go give her that and I'll put your bag in the truck."

After I've given Mika the injection through her IV bag we wait a few minutes for it to start working, Maggie is going to ride in the back seat with her: keep an eye on her during the trip. Carol in going in the passenger seat; and Glenn driving.

Once everything is settled. Carol, Glenn and Daryl carefully carry her outside on the sleeping bag, lay her across the backseat of Carol's station wagon.

We're doing one last quick walk through of the house when Daryl steps up behind me, mouth sliding over my neck, I let my eyes slip shut at his touch. Feel his hands slip around my chest, over my waist…My eyes open when he grabs my arm oddly…

I look down to see him pressing a syringe into the IV still taped inside my elbow.

_What the…._

I try to jerk away from him just as Carol is coming down the hallway sees me struggling and steps towards us in obvious confusion. "Daryl!"

He keeps his arms around me 'til I twist and jerk again.

"Let her go Daryl before she hurts herself!" Carol is blocking the other side of the hallway…I suddenly feel strangely trapped between them.

I almost miss the expression that flashes over his face lightning quick.

My head is starting to feel really heavy…my whole body is actually…oh no.

"What did you give me?" I brace my hand against his chest when he steps up to me again, I can't push him away… my breathing coming faster in my distress even as he tries to sooth me, fingers smoothing back my hair from my face.

"It's okay, you're just going to rest for a while."

Realization dawns on me…he drugged me…just like I did to Mika…_fuck. _

"_I'm….going to kick…your…ass…" _

_He would take my comments about the trip possibly hurting to heart…God Damnit…What if we run into walkers…what if there's a herd…I won't be awake to defend them…Oh God…_

I try to shake my head only succeed in making the lazy spin worse. My knees start to buckle and he scoops me up pulling me into his chest. I punch him weakly in the shoulder; not nearly hard enough…he doesn't even have the decency to make a halfway satisfying sound at my assault…

"It's okay, just rest. I'll see you in a few hours." Guilt plays across his face as I stare up at him.

"No…" my head rolls against his chest and everything goes dark.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**Okay, working on 49 right now! Hopefully we have power tomorrow night; and I actually get to watch Sunday's episode, grrrr... xD You guys are the best, thanks for coming this far! Think Seraphim is going to kick Daryl's butt? :P**


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer:** If you don't know by now...yeah. ; )

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

(Daryl's POV)

* * *

Carol glares at him from the end of the hallway.

"Why would you do that?"

"She almost passed out just walking to the table, aint no way she's feeling well enough to drive almost two hours without being in pain."

"You didn't ask her, you just…"

"You think she'd have said yes?" Damn girl was stubborn as a bull.

"Daryl, you can't do things like that…even if it's probably for the best; she's going to be furious when she wakes up."

"I'll deal with it." He moves past her, conversation finished. Maggie and Glenn both look up when he carries her out to the yard.

"She alright?" Maggie starts towards him shielding her eyes from the low afternoon sun.

"Fine, open the door." Maggie pulls the truck cab open, stands back watching him place her carefully on the seat.

"She's gonna be pissed at you." Her soft southern accent grates over his nerves.

"Stay out of it."

Maggie looks at him a second longer before turning back to the station wagon. He's grateful he's driving separately today so he doesn't have to be a part of the conversation about to take place in the other car.

Glenn takes point as the pull out, keeping the speed relatively low for the empty roads. Probably mindful of both Maggie and Carol fussing over the sleeping Mika in the back seat.

Fin's breathing remains slow and even throughout the trip, even when the truck bounces across the occasional man sized pot hole. The jolt makes him grind his teeth, he's even less sorry at the end of the trip he decided to drug her beforehand.

She's still fast asleep when they pull up to the back lot of the warehouse. Glenn and Maggie pulled in first.

He waits in the truck cab, staring down at Seraphim fast asleep laid out on the seat; head pillowed on her arm while they climb up the ladder to the warehouse roof to get Rick and Tyreese to help them.

Carol is out of her car, and checking Mika in the back seat, he's about to get out of the truck to see if she needs help when she straightens up and waves him off with a small smile gives him a quick thumbs up…Mika must still be fast asleep as well; and in relatively good shape after the trip. Whatever concoction Seraphim made that afternoon it works beautifully. Only a small part of him is left wondering just how long the effect will last before she's awake enough to throttle him.

He climbs out of the cab when he sees Rick and the others coming back down from the roof.

"You look better, looked like shit last time I saw you."

Rick gives him that crooked grin squinting in the sunlight.

"Yeah, still think I'll pass on arm wrestling anyone for a while. Where's Fin? Tyreese said she was injured…"

Rick showing concern shouldn't burn his insides, twist around in his gut, she's part of the group now. Rick shows concern for everyone on a regular basis maybe more then he should it weighs him down often times.

"She's in_ my_ truck."

Rick slants an odd look at him, but doesn't say anything further they all head towards the back wall of the warehouse.

A large green dumpster pressed against the cinderblock obscures a service door so no one would notice it. It takes all of them to shove the large green dumpster away from the back wall; he can't help but wonder how the hell she got the dumpster there by herself in the first place.

Rick raps on the steel door once the dumpster is moved and Beth opens it smiling instantly when she sees him.

She practically skips towards him and gives him a quick tight hug and a kiss on the cheek…he'll never understand why she does that shit…does it to Rick too sometimes…maybe it's some Irish thing? He'll have to ask Maggie…

"Thank you, for finding my sister." She's smiling up at him with those big blue eyes. He grunts in response uncomfortable with her arms around his neck, pushes her away gently taking a step back.

"Wasn't nothin."

"Where's Fin I want to thank her proper." Beth is looking around the lot.

He inclines his head toward the truck. "She's asleep have to do it later."

Beth nods following him back to the truck anyways right on his heels. Rick is already there pulling open the door to the cab. Daryl's steps quicken, he grabs Rick's shoulder, stopping him from reaching into the truck to disturb her.

"Hey, I got it."

_Shit;_ he didn't mean to growl that at him.

Rick steps back, keeps hold of the door so he can grab her off the bench seat, very carefully pull her against his chest lifting her up.

"That's pretty hard sleep." Rick's expression irritates him. What business is it of his?

"Drugged her for the trip."

"And she's gonna kick your ass when she wakes up and figures that out again." Carol calls over her shoulder shooting him a pointed look still helping Tyreese and Glenn carry Mika inside on the taut sleeping bag; trying to keep her as straight and un-jostled as possible.

"She can try."

"We've got someplace set up for you to put her, 'til she can make it back upstairs comfortably. Figure she took care of us, time to return the favor."

Daryl can't help but grind his teeth at that; if it wasn't for them she wouldn't be injured in the first place. He follows Rick inside to the back storage section of the building; not much more than a long hallway the length of the warehouse a concrete block wall about 12 feet tall separating this section from the rest of the open space. Rick leads him to one end, behind a section of stacked boxes filled with paper products and ink cartridges at least 7 feet high.

They've dragged a mattress from somewhere else in the warehouse into the corner, it's hidden from the rest of the long wide hallway by the box wall. It's made up with clean sheets and a heavy blanket, two large boxes on either side sit like end tables with a kerosene lantern on one; the inside unlit and dark. There's a pile of books on the other…probably Carl or Beth's doing.

The thoughtful gesture tugs at him; would he have thought to do the same?

He moves to the bed's edge, sets her down as gently as he can, she doesn't make a sound, still sound asleep.

She's definitely going to kick his ass when she wakes up.

"We put Mika and Carol in the office down at the end by the kitchen area but I figured that might feel a little too constricting for you." Rick is standing behind him when he straightens up. He must remember Daryl's comments at the Prison about not wanting to sleep in a cage; he's never been a fan of tight spaces.

"You Good?"

He glances up at Rick's expression, realizes he's more referring to his outburst in the lot then the current room set up.

"Yeah Man, we're good."

"Anything you want to tell me?"

The stare at each other for a full minute.

"I'll be sleeping down here."

"Already figured that."

_Damn Glenn._

"Alright, I'll be upstairs, you need anything…" Rick trails off waving his hand.

Yeah he knows just ask…if it was just for him he wouldn't bother…but it's not.

He nods, glances back down at her sleeping form, can't stop himself from reaching out and checking her pulse quickly against her neck. Pushing a few loose strands behind her ear with his fingertips.

She'll probably be out for a while still.

He leaves the tiny alcove of boxes follows Rick back down the hallway to check in on Carol and Mika, now that the prospect of her waking up to scream at him looms closer he's not eager to wait for it; can't stop the nervous twist in his stomach.

"How is she?"

"Asleep, peaceful the whole trip; another thing I have to thank Fin for." Carol smiles at him sitting on the cot next to Mika's sleeping form her fingers gently sliding through the little girl's blonde hair, tucking it away from her face in a motherly gesture that tugs at his insides. It reminds him of Sophia to see her hovering over Mika's tiny form in the darkened room.

"You can't hide from her down here. I don't want to be collateral damage when she wakes up and starts throwing things at your head."

She's half kidding; but the possibility hasn't completely escaped him.

His fingers raise to the door jamb over his head, elbows bent. He leans his head against one of his forearms for a second, not exactly hiding his face…more collecting his thoughts. It doesn't help, he's still not sure what to say a minute later, with either of them.

"Daryl, start with _I'm sorry_."

He looks up, face twists in discomfort. "Even if I'm not?"

"Yup, you start with that and then listen to what she has to say, if you still don't know what to say then say it again."

He stares at the wall hands tightening over the wood under his fingertips. Never thought he'd be standing here with Carol trying to tell him how to apologize for sticking his foot in it. But he can't say he's sorry, even if that's her advice because he isn't; can't be…not when he did it to protect her.

"And Daryl? You might want to hide her bow...and your knife."

He finds a noise escaping his chest at that, not quite a grunt, maybe an agreement, he's not sure.

She blinks up at him watching his expression like she always does; like she's reading something under his comment; seeing something in the conversation, in him he doesn't see; maybe doesn't want to.

It makes him fidget when she stares at him; always has.

The itch between his shoulder blades drives him to move away from the conversation.

_Some things don't change._

"It'll be okay Daryl," Her words of reassurance follow his back down the hallway.

He's less sure with each second that tick by, deep twisting knots have long since taken up residence behind his ribs. He backs out of the doorway with a stiff nod. Walks back down the hallway to check her again, make sure she's still sleeping when he hears the heavy steel door clang against its frame echoing down the concrete hallway.

His pace picks up, he glances at the empty bed confirms his fear. She's awake, and she's outside.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, rar.

**Notes:** Alright last chapter for today's update; it is Spaghetti Tuesday after all so there must be an update!

Oh Hershel I miss you so…. : (

* * *

**Chapter Fifty**

(Daryl POV)

* * *

His pace picks up instantly; one swift glance at the empty bed confirms his fear.

She's awake, and she's outside.

He jogs to the fissured doorway, sunlight seeping through in a brilliant white outline against the dark grey wall, his hand yanks it open ready to chase her across the lot if she's running.

His steps falter still in the doorway temporarily blinded by the searing sunlight stabbing at his eyes after the darkened interior rooms even after only a few minutes.

He spots her immediately despite the glare, blinks not trusting his sight quite yet the scene sends guilt surging through him all over again.

She's not running; he's rendered her completely incapable of such a feat right now with his previous actions.

Her back is to him, bent forward on the rough pavement, whole body shaking, heaving with each retching puke on the asphalt. She barely kept breakfast down after two weeks of painkillers and an empty stomach and now he's sent her system into a tailspin.

He moves to stand behind her, kneels down at her back to put his hands on her shoulders, not sure what else to do 'til she can stop retching on her own.

He ignores her snarling at him to go away, her poorly aimed batting his hands away between gasping retches. He can't leave, not when it's his fault she's sick to her stomach.

She stops finally after a few tense minutes, presses the back of her hand to her lips for a few strangled breaths trying to calm herself before spinning on her toes and knocking him flat on his ass with one swift kick.

His back slams to the hot pavement, abs contracting to keep his head up; stop his skull from smashing into the concrete knocking himself silly.

He takes a deep breath should have expected that, starts to say he's sorry 'til all the air in his lungs leaves him in a single startled burst of sound as she drops onto his waist slapping at his chest with her hands, he pulls his forearms up in reflex to protect his face before realizing the blows don't hurt at all…she doesn't intend them to….can't actually be trying to hurt him; not when she can knock him on his ass in a split second, could clean his clock if she really wanted to cause him pain…

Instead she smacks her palm into his shoulders making a sound of pure frustrated outrage a wordless scream, jerking and twisting to keep slapping at him while he grabs for her wrists missing them several times with a frustrated grunt of his own at her quick movements before locking his fingers around them successfully stilling her outburst.

He wrenches her forward hears her hiss of pain and freezes with her hands trapped against his chest, both their breathing accelerated his heart pounding in his ears.

"There's a knife right there if you want to stab me with it."

One brow cocks towards her hairline in mock interest. "You're not getting off that easy."

He didn't think so.

Her shoulder catches his eye and he jerks his back up off the pavement, nearly knocking her off his lap his hands steadying her upper arms carefully; letting her right go so he can pull open the collar on the oversized men's t-shirt that swallows most of her frame.

He stretches the cotton ring off her shoulder so he can inspect the broken skin under the bloody spot ruining the off white cotton above her chest.

"You're bleeding."

"Yeah I figured that." She slaps his hand away from her shirt collar without much force behind it.

"You drugged me! Why would you think that was okay?"

"I'm not sorry."

She scoffs tilts her head back and stares up at the cloudless sky still straddled over his lap for almost a full minute before shaking her head finally. "Of course not…"

"You said yourself the trip would hurt."

She glares at him from half a foot away. "Yes, I did." Her eyes narrow still waiting for his defense, apparently not content with that answer.

"I didn't want you to be in pain."

Her hands raise between them clenching into fists like she's going to smack him properly this time.

"God Damnit!…That's not even, what gives you…how….ugh!" All the air leaves her in a rush.

He waits while she leans her head against his shoulder taking a few slow deep breaths before he speaks again. "Do you want to hit me again?"

"Yes…no. Maybe…"

Well that's exceedingly unclear.

"I'm sorry I made you sick." For that at least he is extraordinarily sorry.

"I hate puking." Her voice is sullen against his shirt.

"During my childhood puking was kinda the major family hobby; for my dad it was almost an Olympic sport."

"Alcoholic?"

"Yeah." He tenses waiting for her response.

She simply nods against his skin. "You can't do that Daryl. I get why you did it, but you can't make decisions like that for me. You either treat me as an equal or this won't work."

She raises her chin, waits while he stares across the lot into the trees. She keeps talking when he doesn't respond. "What if you'd driven into a herd while I was unconscious? What then? I couldn't defend myself, couldn't help you…"

"I'd have gotten you out."

She stares up at him. "I have no doubt. But you wouldn't have done that to Carol, or Michonne or Maggie..."

"It's my job to protect you."

Her eyes slip shut for a moment, when they open again they're overly bright, her gaze flicks away over his shoulder while she swallows quickly. "You can't protect me by jumping in front of me, or making my decisions and cutting me out of the conversation completely…if I did that to you…" Her brow quirks. "You'd lose your God Damn mind, and all the sense God gave you."

He's staring off over her shoulder again. Her voice is soft and thick when she continues, her next words knocking the air out of him in a single blow.

"How'd it feel Daryl standing in that basement? Being trapped on the other side of that wall when you realized they were going to find me, what they were going to do to me."

His eyes fly to hers, instant molten hot rage curling through his insides, burning its way up through his chest expanding with each pulse of his heart like a bubble ready to burst. She stares back at him for a few moments while he seethes, growls each ragged breath his furious brain clambering to verbalize a response that will be something more than an elaborate string of obscenities hurled into the air between them, all the while his hands are clench and unclench with undoubtedly bruising force over her skin.

He opens his mouth to snarl a response and her palm slaps over his lips stopping him.

"_Then don't you ever make me feel like that either_."

Her voice is fiercely passionate, the words curling around him dampening the anger boiling up, fizzle his rage out to nothing more than guilt laden tendrils of hot steam still winding through his chest.

He stares at her a moment longer, her palm still pressed over his lips eyes boring into his before his fingers release her arm, wrap gently around her wrist pulling her palm away from his mouth.

He stares over her shoulder again, can't meet her eyes waiting for her to draw away from him again. "Told you I'd fuck up."

Her palm presses to the side of his face instead thumb sliding over his rough cheek.

"Of course, you're human. Now, do it again and I'll lay your ass out in front of God and all his witnesses. In the meantime, I need to brush my teeth and I need to eat something really bland…"

She's grimacing like she might hurl again.

He moves to stand up, likes that she keeps her palms against his chest 'til he realizes it's because she's dizzy again by her slight stagger.

He scoops her up off the pavement pushing the door open with his boot and carrying her now limp form back inside to the darkened room behind the wall of boxes at the end of the hall.

Her breathing is slow and even having already fallen into a deep sleep before her head hits the pillow.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**NOTES: **Not quite the level of angst I was originally going for in this chapter,

but it felt right when I was writing it, more angst to come in the next bits.

* * *

Alright, so I have my mother in law (dun-dun DUN!) visiting starting tomorrow, yikes: and they will be here the whole weekend and part of next week; then the day after they leave I will be traveling to Florida for about two weeks…with a crazy schedule there.

I plan to write while I am in FL but my updates might come a bit slower for a bit as I get bogged down with other things so apologies in advance! I'm hoping that the trip and lots of crazy activities will re-charge my muse who's a bit tuckered out after the whole ice storm fiasco!

As always you guys are the best, thank you all for your support for reading and definitely for favoriting/following and reviewing! You have no idea just how much it brightens my day and helps me write! -Kadyn


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, Rar!

**Notes:** Two songs I have to mention for this chapter (and the next few actually) as they helped me get the mood right.

"In the Water" by Anadel (which can be heard on the Walking Dead Season 2 game end credits, or Amazon) and "Wicked Game" covered by Stone Sour. They are both AMAZING angsty, tortured songs, fantastic inspiration!

Super Mega thanks to Angelinaa for beta reading and general awesome feedback on this chapter. Thank, thank, thank you!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-One**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

_I'm dreaming. Some small part of me remains conscious of that; it doesn't help stop the scene playing out around me in near endless loop. Impossible to change…escape…_

_Abby's feet pound the pavement running flat out four steps in front of me, her legs longer than mine blonde ponytail fluttering behind her swaying with each stride. _

_The hot Atlanta asphalt is splattered with dark stains and worse I try to ignore as it passes beneath out sneakers. My too loud breathing and Abby's echoes all around us in the air; off the buildings, the slapping sound of feet on hard ground giving away our position no matter where we turn, or how fast we try to run. _

_I try to snap my mouth closed to muffle the sound but only succeed in making myself sputter and coughing desperate for more air a moment later sides aching like someone's digging a sharp knife under my ribs._

_The small pocket knife in my back pocket digs against my backside with each stride, it's not enough to stop them; are only chance is to run by someplace safe…we need shelter and we need it now…_

"_Abby!" I can only hope my wheeze is loud enough to catch her attention with her ahead of me. She glances back sees me gesturing to the ladder against the brick wall and immediately races towards it._

_The rungs are hot enough under my palms to melt skin as we climb as fast as our shaking muscles and burning lungs will let us. _

_I'm so dizzy when I finally haul myself over the lip of roof that the sky spins overhead, piercing sunlight blinds me as we collapse inches apart on the hot gravel strewn roof. The only sound this high is my gasping greedy lungs mirroring Abby's hasty panicked breaths._

"_It's okay…" Abby's hand finds mine on the hot tar painted roof, fingers lacing through mine both of us shaking with exertion and adrenaline neither of us noticing the hot bits of gravel pressed against our backs, trapped between the palms of our interlocked hands._

_I won't notice the red marks until later…long after Abby is dead._

"_It's okay…they….can't climb…" Abby pants. "We're safe….we're safe…" Our fingers tighten with the words; my arms shake, my legs are on fire, my lungs burn, blood rushes in my ears._

_The pocket knife in my jeans digs into my left butt cheek reminding me we're not safe; no one is…_

_It's a false hope._

* * *

Voices that don't belong filter around me…someone's fingers brush my forehead.

I try to raise my hand to push them away but none of my limbs respond…I can't even get my eyelashes to lift…

My chest aches.

But it's nothing compared to the rolling fight going on just under my ribs. I groan, try to shift to my side hoping to alleviate the twisting burn…

At least I'm lying on something soft…

* * *

"_Seraph! Seraph! Help Me!" _

_My feet can't move fast enough. I can hear them, the sound claws at my ears, scrapes like gravel over my bones, chokes the air in my lungs when Abby screams…_

"_Abby!"_

_I round the corner too late…just in time to see frenzy and snarling and red…oh god…so much deep dark red… _

_I'm screaming as I pull them off, shoving them away from her hollow form, her body pulled half out from behind the dumpster she tried to squeeze behind to escape their greedy hands…but not fast enough…not far enough…_

"_Abby!" _

_I'm screaming, and screaming, my throat is raw with it. My knees and shins burn through my pant legs the searing heat of black asphalt in the summer sun and hot wet blood soak through to my skin. The material clinging and sticking to me…it looks brown against the dark fabric…when it dries later it will chafe and rub at my skin cracking and peeling off slowly._

_Death chokes the back of my throat with the heavy scent of iron and rot as they try to reach past me and I shove them away each time, hands clinging to her ripped shirt sobbing 'til they overwhelm me; knocking me flat on my back so they can feed._

_They ignore me no matter how hard I thrash, how loud I scream. I am invisible._

_I lay there staring up at the slit of sun scorched sky between the brick alley while pain bubbles up out of my chest, roars past my lips with endless sobs that bless fully block out the wet squelching sound of guts and blood and skin…._

_I am invisible._

_I am lost._

_I am alone._

* * *

I lurch up from the bed before my eyes are fully opened the sound of snarling still echoes in my head, sweat drips down my neck. My stomach burns, my mouth waters and the back of my throat seizes in warning. My feet move swiftly over an almost familiar concrete floor in my half-dazed state between dreaming and being fully awake. I find the closest door desperate to get outside away from the clawing, twisting roll under my ribs.

I barely register the pavement under my boot soles, the breeze that lifts the loose tendrils that frame my face my arms shake, chest seizes my stomach tightens and I empty what little there is in my stomach onto the dark asphalt between my palms.

There isn't much to come up; but that doesn't stop my stomach from putting in a class A effort.

I gag on empty foul air and choke around my spasming throat. My tongue feels thick in my mouth, my eyes water 'til tears slip down my cheeks with each shuddering retch.

The sound of the metal door clanging closed again behind me echoes off the empty lot and the bare tree trunks that line it.

Heavy footfalls approach my back, his hands cup my shoulders. I slam my elbow back trying to shove him away, my arm twisting back hands slapping him off of me gasping for him to go away between the empty spasms my stomach insists on still despite producing nothing for the last full minute.

He doesn't though. No of course not. The last thing I want to do is puke in front of him. Could he spare me even this small embarrassment though? Of course not.

The uncontrollable twisting in my stomach stops finally so I can catch my breath. My legs shake underneath me like I've just run for miles, my chest and back ache from tightening with each spasm of my angry stomach. I spit retched tang from my mouth and wipe my lips with the back of my hand closing my eyes for a minute trying to decide if I can stand up.

"I'm sor…"

I shift my weight to my right leg kicking out with my left heel and catching him square in the chest sending him onto his ass before I spin to face him sitting stunned on the pavement. I slam my palms into his shoulders with an angry cry and knock him flat out a second later; it should be satisfying but something about the vulnerable position pisses me off even more…

He didn't have to let me knock him down. I don't need him to humor me. He's already treated me like a child once today drugging me like some helpless damsel too fragile to take a few bumps…

He opens his mouth to say he's sorry again but I don't want to hear it. I launch myself at him my arm ticks back making my shoulder burn and pull in protest but I ignore it in favor of slapping him first with one hand, then the other.

And then I do it again because it wasn't satisfying enough and I can't seem to stop hitting him or the wordless outrage and helpless frustration that escapes me.

He pulls his forearms up to protect his face whole body flinching so hard beneath me I almost retch again my stomach twisting with sickening guilt that someone so brave could be so damaged at the same time.

I could never hit him in the face; not even as enraged as I am…can't even bring myself to really smack the shit out of him right now; each time I try to slap him full on my arms slow before the impact comes faltering mid-air so the blows are little more than whooshing air past my face and the sound of my palms thumping against his shoulders and chest.

I can't actually hurt him even if he's hurt me…

He must realize a second later when his arms drop limp to the pavement at his sides, he just lets me hit him for minute; surrenders underneath my hands like even he thinks he deserves it…the thought claws at me even more; twists and prods my chest and the next blow actually stings my palm when it makes contact.

_Fight Back! God Damnit! Why won't he fight back?!_

I slap him a few more times before his fingers lock around my wrists, yanking my hands down against his chest his arms shaking with the effort to hold me still as I twist my shoulders and yank back snarling a curse at him again. I finally jerk too hard though and my curse is strangled out by a painful gasp as my shoulder reminds me why I'm not supposed to be arm wrestling anyone.

We both still, my palms still flat over his chest, I can feel his racing heartbeat under my palm; each rise and fall of his breath moves me. His fingers tighten over my wrists.

"There's a knife right there if you want to stab me with it." His hands don't release their hold despite his offer.

_I can barely hit the man when I'm so pissed off I can't see straight and he thinks I might want to stab him? What an idiot._

"You're not getting off that easy."

His eyes drift from mine down my body expression shifting lightening quick from wary guilt to concern. His eyes tighten until the little creases form in their corners; his mouth becomes a hard line as he jerks his back off the pavement. His hands relinquish my wrists for better leverage on my upper arms his new grip keeps me from tumbling backwards off his abs and onto the asphalt when he moves.

I slip back to sit on his thighs knees bent on the warm pavement by his hips staring at him with a questioning eyebrow, not sure what caused his sudden change in mood. Until his hand lets go of my arm and rises to the collar of my over-sized stolen tee, his movement brings the solid ache thrumming through my shoulder back to my attention.

He hooks one finger through the neck and pulls it wider than it already is stretching the old cotton fabric 'til it hangs off my shoulder leaving my collarbone and shoulder exposed to the sun beating down on us.

My eyes drop to follow whatever now holds his rapt attention. I already have a decent idea of what it is though based on the harsh downturn of his lips and the ache in my chest.

_Yup, I'm bleeding again._

"You're bleeding." His voice is tight, expression carefully controlled.

"Yeah I figured that." I slap his hand away from my ruined shirt, but the only reason I'm successful is because his hand practically snaps back away from me the instant I touch him.

He's starting to piss me off again.

"You drugged me! Why would you think that was okay?"

"I'm not sorry."

I stare up at the cloudless sky. The temptation to slap him rises again. I'm not sure I want to resist it this time.

_He's a jerk, and an idiot, and a complete thick headed Neanderthal…And I have done exactly the same thing to him before._

"Of course not…" I scoff into the open sky, drop my chin to glare at him; tell myself to ignore the way those gorgeous blue eyes cloud over with guilt, dart away from mine…

"You said yourself the trip would hurt."

I keep glaring at him our noses inches apart, he keeps his eyes on the ground.

"Yes, I did." I'm still waiting for the part that makes drugging me and lugging me around like a useless china doll okay…

"I didn't want you to be in pain." His voice breaks when he says it, so soft it's a whisper that barely reaches my ears…

"God Damnit!…That's not even, what gives you…how….ugh!"

All the air leaves me in a rush and God Damn my fickle heart.

My hands clench into fist between us in frustration because my stomach doesn't just flip when he speaks; no of course not… my chest heats all the way through like something is melting and I'm not ready for that yet…

_I want to be angry; I want to hit him. _

_I want to make him understand why this isn't okay…_

My heart and Daryl are both idiots apparently

they're completely unreasonable!

My forehead drops to his shoulder in surrender while I pull in a few shuddering breaths trying to ignore the curl of warmth through my chest when his fingers slide up my arms, the tickle of amusement in the pit of my stomach when he speaks again.

"Do you want to hit me again?"

"Yes…no. Maybe…"

I think it might be more productive to smack some sense into myself because it's not the drugs making me spin, and my heart race and God help us both if I'm not completely in love with the clueless idiot next to me.

"I'm sorry I made you sick."

Well that's something. "I hate puking." I keep my face against his shirt mindful that I probably have horrendous breath right now, probably foul enough that it could kill a Walker.

"During my childhood puking was kinda the major family hobby; for my dad it was almost an Olympic sport."

I take that in for a moment.

Daryl doesn't talk about himself much; not that there's been much time for that in the few weeks we've had running from one disaster to another…

I know almost nothing about the history of the man sitting in front of me. He knows even less about me.

Maybe he is trying to open up…if we could both do it maybe one day we might have an almost normal relationship…

_Yeah right._

"Alcoholic?"

"Yeah." He tenses against me, maybe he expects me to hit him again, maybe because he just revealed something about his crappy childhood and even mentioning it brings up memories that still sting; make him feel vulnerable even as a grown man.

It's amazing to me just how profoundly we can fuck each other up as human beings.

_What kind of damage will I leave in my wake?_

I nod against his skin, unsure what to say for a minute, gathering my scattered thoughts.

"You can't do that Daryl." His chest is like stone under my forehead, barely breathing he's ready to explode with nervous tension.

"I get why you did it, but you can't make decisions like that for me. You either treat me as an equal or this won't work."

I raise my chin wait while he stares across the lot into the trees. He can't even make eye contact with me, how can this work? How can I make him understand?

"What if you'd driven into a herd while I was unconscious? What then? I couldn't defend myself, couldn't help you…"

"I'd have gotten you out."

I stare up at his suddenly fierce expression, get lost for a moment in the flashing steel blue of his eyes boring into mine. The heat in my chest is back tenfold.

"I have no doubt. But you wouldn't have done that to Carol, or Michonne or Maggie..."

"It's _my_ job to protect _you_."

My eyes slip shut for the span of three heartbeats, heat gathers behind my eyelids curls and expands through my chest until I think I might burst with it… I have to blink several times to keep the tears off my cheeks when I open them again.

I know I can't meet his gaze without losing my hold on them. It's my turn now to stare off over his shoulder. I have to swallow a few times before I can form a voice steady enough for words around the lump in my throat.

"You can't protect me by jumping in front of me, or making my decisions and cutting me out of the conversation completely…if I did that to you…"

I trail off my brow climbs towards my hairline remembering the time I did just that and how badly he reacted. "You'd lose your God Damn mind, and all the sense God gave you."

The memory hounds me, thickens the lump in my throat increases the ache in my chest…it was the first time I started to think maybe he might feel something more for me…that maybe it might be possible for him to love me back, and that made it so much worse because I thought I was about to die, and then I thought I'd lost him anyway…

He's staring off over my shoulder again, he won't meet my eyes.

My voice is quieter then I intend when I continue, the weight of that memory presses against my chest, the way he looked at me, the fear in his clear blue eyes, the helpless rage that swirled there.

I know how that feels, and how else can I make him understand…?

I take a deep shuddering breath. "How'd it feel Daryl standing in that basement? Being trapped on the other side of that wall when you realized they were going to find me, what they were going to do to me?"

His eyes fly to mine, expression contorting with a complex wash of rage, and fear and pain and helpless desperation. I watch each emotion burning its way through him, twisting and expanding while his breathing grows faster until it hisses out from between clenched teeth and his eyes have narrowed to slivers of pale blue fury like cold chips of ice.

I stare back at him while it overwhelms him all over again, guilt clawing at my insides for bringing it up, hurting him…

He snarls each ragged breath into the air between us, his hands clenched over my arms hard enough that I will without a doubt show ten perfect Daryl sized fingertip bruises on my skin by tomorrow.

But I don't care because he feels it.

it burns him too...

I know it does when I meet his glare; and it's the only way to make him see what he did to me. Make him understand why he can't do this again, and I realize now; neither can I…

We'll destroy each other far too quickly this way.

He opens his mouth to snarl something and my arm jerks forward against his grip on my skin, my palm slaps over his lips muffling whatever response he's verbalized to nothing more than a violent furious sound.

"_Then don't you ever make me feel like that either_."

I watch the angry lines leave his face, the flush in his cheeks quickly fades; his eyes widen staring straight back at me.

I hold his gaze, can't blink even when my eyes start to burn and threaten to spill over with unshed tears.

He breaks our gaze, looks away first. My hand is still pressed over his lips my skin now warm from each breath he exhales against my palm. His fingers finally release their hold on my biceps, one hand rising to wrap gently around my wrist pulling my palm away from his mouth.

He stares over my shoulder again, can't even meet my eyes anymore. I guess it's all too much for him, and I shouldn't be surprised that he's withdrawing from me even though it stings, chafes against my already overly raw emotions.

Its better this way, I remind myself. Maybe he doesn't feel the same, maybe he can hold back…At least if I'm the only one in love when this all falls apart he can move on and I'll be the only one destroyed…

The tone of his next words catches me completely off guard lost as I am in my own thoughts.

"Told you I'd fuck up."

How can one man fit so much self-loathing and dejection in a single sentence? My chest aches. My palm presses to the side of his face once more, desperate to comfort him my thumb sliding in lazy circles over his rough dirt smeared cheek. He was clean just hours ago. I feel my lips twitch into an almost smile.

_I swear the man attracts dirt like a magnet…_

"Of course, you're human. Now, do it again and I'll lay your ass out in front of God and all his witnesses. In the meantime, I need to brush my teeth; and I need to eat something really bland…"

And maybe I need to lie down and pass out again for like three days…I don't feel so great now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

I slide off his lap, get my feet under me but keep my hands against his chest so that when he stands up I can use his upward momentum to pull me to my feet. I stagger a bit, my balance not quite right...

He scoops me up off the pavement a second later without comment pulling me against his chest and carrying me back to the warehouse door. _So much for not being babied… _

The second the cooler darkened air of the warehouse engulfs me I let my eyes slip shut against the soft cotton of his shirt turn my head to press my nose to his chest breathing him into my lungs and welcoming the darkness that swallows me whole.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	52. Chapter 52

Enter your standard disclaimer here: yada, yada yada…. : p

**Notes: **Kudos to Angelinaa for Beta work, any mistakes left are mine! : )

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

He's not there when I open my eyes again.

The sun is still up. I can tell by the low amber light still slanting through the windows high overhead. The skylight over the hallway maintains the shadowy grey glow that tells me its beyond late afternoon—at most an hour from dusk.

I have slept most of the day, again.

My stomach feels better, but my shoulder is seriously stiff…I find a heavy wad of gauze pressed over my collar with too much medical tape when I raise my hand to find the cause; slip my fingers over the padding marveling at the sheer mass of material with a shake of my head.

_No way Carol did this…it had to be Daryl. _

_All that tape is going to be a serious Bitch._

I lay still breathing slowly in and out for a moment before sitting up. I recognize the back hallway of my warehouse; but not the mattress I sit on. They must have brought it back here realizing with my injury I wouldn't be capable of climbing the ladders for a while…not without a good deal of pain at least.

Since Daryl isn't back there's no one to stop me from seeing if I can find Mika. She's got to be somewhere down here as well with her wounds. Carol might be with her, maybe she'll help me peel some of this tape off so I can shower, put on my own clothes.

I pad barefoot down the hallway, the concrete cool under my bare toes. Daryl must have taken off my boots when he laid me down the second time. Maybe he thought it would keep me from running outside again. I snort, rolling my eyes.

She's awake when I peek into the doorway to check her. I think about leaving again before she notices me, but I can't bring myself to do it; especially with her alone. Carol must be upstairs as well maybe its dinner time up there.

My stomach twists; whether in protest or interest I'm not wholly sure.

"Hey how are you feeling?" I keep my voice soft; try not to startle her as I step inside the doorway so she knows I'm here.

"It still hurts, but it's not so bad now…" She tilts her head up to look at me. The angle looks unnatural with her chin jutting up like that. I sit down on the floor next to the cot so she doesn't have to do it anymore.

"Where are we?"

"Home."

She smiles softly, eyes slipping shut at the idea. I know how she feels instantly. It's a special, almost sacred word these days.

_Home._

For a moment I think she's asleep again but then she opens her eyes again, gaze flicking to me. "You live here?"

"Yes," I lean towards her smiling, rest my forearms gingerly on the frame of the cot at her side. "And now, so do you."

She stares up at the tiled cardboard ceiling in the dim light, eyes sweeping around the small office interior. "It's kinda small."

I smile. "No silly, there's a whole building out there, this is just one room."

"Oh, well that makes more sense."

She stops; bites her lip troubled by something. "Fin…I'm sorry I stabbed you…it was a bad thing to do; I know that…I'm not like Lizzie…I don't want to hurt people."

"It's okay."

She shakes her tiny head. "You're just saying that because I know your secret."

My next inhale wheezes past the sudden knot in my throat. I swallow; it doesn't help. My stomach twists.

_Am I?_

"I won't tell though…I want to be a good person…like Carol…like you…" She stares up at me with wide pale eyes.

"I'm not going to tell them Mika. I promise." _I can't out a ten year old girl for what her twisted sister made her do. _

Her eyes water; overflow. Tears spill down her cheeks in shiny streaks I find myself reaching up to brush away with shaking hands.

"It's okay for you to miss her Mika. You can love and miss your sister and still hate what she made you do."

I don't hold what happened that night against Mika, not even a little bit.

Mika stabbing me in the back in that split second before Lizzie jumped me couldn't be more Lizzie's fault even if her fingers had been wrapped over Mika's on the knife hilt…

Considering the sway her older sister had on her; the fear she controlled her with she might as well have done it herself.

"I'm sorry, Fin, I don't want to be bad."

She practically leaps at me from the cot with a distorted babble of words. I wrap my arms around her tiny shoulders while she clings to me sobbing apologies until my shirt is wet against my skin, probably soaking through to the gauze underneath…

"You're not bad. I know you didn't mean it; you barely cut me at all."

It hurts my shoulder to hold her like this but I ignore the ache to rock her back and forth as smoothly as I can, shushing her cries.

When her sobs turn to hiccupping breaths I help her lay back down and sit my hip near her head smoothing her hair back with my good arm like my mother used to when I was younger or sick. I stay until she falls asleep.

When I slip from the room about ten minutes later pulling the door mostly closed behind me to muffle any sounds from the hall Carol is leaning against the wall. My stomach twists into a complex series of knots at the sight of her standing there.

Her hands are folded between the small of her back and the wall, the lines of her face, the set of her shoulders all speak to unease. I don't know how long she's been standing there but I can bet it's long enough to hear what she wasn't meant to know.

She stares down at the concrete floor under her feet as I stand stone still just outside the doorway, one hand still on the knob; neither of us knows what to say next.

With the door open during our conversation and Mika's sobbing…there's no telling exactly how much of that she heard…what she understood in context.

When she speaks first my heart plummets to my stomach.

"Mika stabbed you?" Her voice sounds oddly thick.

"It's between us."

Carol tilts her head back stares up at the high ceiling of the warehouse soaring overhead.

"I'm sorry."

This woman is always apologizing to me. I'm starting to see the brokenness just under her surface; like Daryl's its intense. She just wears hers differently. No wonder they gravitate towards each other.

Broken people don't mend each other though, they might prop each other up briefly…but it's hard to heal someone else when you're too shattered to take care of yourself.

It doesn't matter how strong you pretend to be, eventually it comes crashing down…

_Huh. _

I push those thoughts away quickly before they can tighten the knots in my insides to the point of pain.

"It's not your fault." I shrug ignoring my inner turmoil, absolving Carol of any wrong doing once more.

"She shot Lizzie too?" I stare back at her in silent answer until she nods her head, eyes slipping shut again. "God, what a mess." Her voice shakes; and she doesn't even understand just what a mess it really is.

_Only a broken little girl and I do._

"She doesn't want you to know, I promised."

I silently Thank God Mika didn't say anything more specific about that night…about those Walkers and how I got rid of them that might endanger my place here.

_I've just started to depend on him…to lose him now…_

Carol nods. "Secret is safe with me."

I nod, walk away. I don't ask her to help with my shoulder after that, I can't.

Looking at her tear streaked face reminds me that large parts of me are broken too…

_How long do we have before this all falls apart? _

_How long can we really keep it together before Daryl and I rip each other to shreds on the shattered, jagged pieces of our extremely broken lives? _

_How many pieces will he be in when I'm gone?_

_Will I still be alive when all this is over?_

I head straight to the shower room shutting the door behind me sealing off the back hallway then I move across the cold dark tile floor by memory to the spigot twisting it. I strip as the water starts and stand under the spray of ice cold water scrubbing and scrubbing until my teeth chatter so hard with cold shudders I think my jaw might break and my muscles ache with spasms.

It doesn't matter how long I stand there, I can't wrap my head around it, my chest feels hollow, raw and empty.

I slide my fingers over my skin certain that I'll find a gaping hole it feels so real.

I don't shut the water off before my legs give way even though I feel it coming. It continues beating down over me, ice cold rivulets running down my face, cascade off the end of my nose and run into my eyes burning when I collapse into a shuddering heap over the drain. The water pools around me, lapping at my legs on the tile floor.

I thought the cold might help; It doesn't though.

I can still feel it…

The instant I close my eyes I'm right back on that searing hot rooftop, the skin on my back burning through my shirt, lungs gasping for air with the heavy scent of hot asphalt and ozone on the back of my tongue, the rest of me baking under the steaming July sun.

"_We're safe…" Abby's voice…_

…but when I turn my head Abby's body is the torn bloody mess I'm going to find in the alley...always find in the end of my nightmares…I can never save her.

I can't even save myself.

I stare at her lifeless form in horror as the features on her face shift to Daryl's_…_

_Daryl's lifeless face, pale blood smeared skin and dead eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky…_

I clench my eyes shut against the burning and scream myself into darkness.

I wake shaking uncontrollably still in the pitch dark. The image is burned against my eyelids…flutters before my face in the darkness.

I struggle to sit up trapped by something heavy against my ribs. My damp hair chokes me, loose and twisted in unconditioned clumps tangled against my neck, twisted around my back with cold sweat…I'm in bed again…Daryl's arm tightens around me, pulling me back down, his solid presence reminds me to breath…I bury my face against his chest so his heartbeat pulses under my cheek. His scent fills my aching lungs, loosens the knot in my chest.

Relief floods me instantly: overwhelming and sweet.

_He's alive_…

"It's okay, it's just a nightmare, you're safe."

_I shake my head against his words. Eyes clenched tight to stop the tears threatening to spill over._

_I'm never safe…_

_It's always a false hope._

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer**: Sadly none of the AMC or Walking Dead original characters are mine. Poo.

**Notes: **Thanks to all the readers and reviewers, you guys rock my socks! Like seriously it's a sock hop over here. : D Mad props to my beta Angelinaa; any mistakes left are totally mine and should reflect in no way on her awesome.

Remember guys when you make typos the Erorrists win. (and sometimes with me...they win a lot)

Happy Saturday!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"I need to talk to you." Rick's tone is clipped; his mouth pulled into a puckered twist, cheeks hollowed out like he's eaten something that doesn't agree with him.

Daryl recognizes it instantly after a quick glance over his shoulder as the expression he always makes when he's upset about something or other.

Too bad Daryl also couldn't give a shit bout what's got his panties in a pinch right now, not after what just happened.

"It can wait."

He's not leaving her right now. His hands are still shaking where he's got them pressed flat to the mattress next to her shoulder after the adrenaline rush of hearing Carol calling him frantically back downstairs. His heart is still racing in his chest after finding her passed out on the tile floor…mumbling something about Abby and Mika and him against his chest when he picked her up soaking wet and freezing cold again just like when he pulled her out of the river.

He leaves for less than thirty god damn minutes, and she tries to drown in a shower.

Carol is still with them, doesn't comment on the tense air between the two men but her eyes flick to Daryl's face before dropping swiftly back to focus on her hands redressing Fin's shoulder. Daryl is grateful not just for her help; now and before when she tossed a towel over Fin's limp form after he picked her up so he could get her back down the hallway without Rick and everyone getting an eyeful. He's grateful just for her steadying presence; she's all that's keeping him grounded right now…stopping him from putting his fist through the closest wall.

She followed his path down the hallway silently to their bed, waited near his side while he set her down again. Stays out of his way, even as she checks her pulse and breathing, she doesn't even comment or make him feel embarrassed when he yanks his t-shirt over his head and slips it over Fin's replacing the wet towel.

Carol ignores all of that, still checking her for a fever, fretting under her breath over the fact that she was fine just minutes before… apparently well enough that she was talking to Mika and Carol both like nothing was wrong.

_Damn stubborn girl. No matter what he does trouble finds her._

Daryl's gaze slides to Carol's face once more, once again unbelievably grateful for her presence even if he can't find the words to say so out loud…but it's Carol, so she simply nods to him with a small smile, already knows he's thankful but can't find the words to speak. Certainly not around the knot that's been in his throat since he hauled her back in here.

"I think she's fine, she needs to eat, it's been days since she kept anything down but liquid."

"Daryl, Now."

"I Said No Rick!" What's so God Damn important it can't wait? He raises his hand to his face, covers his eyes for a moment, continues quieter but just as gruff. "It'll wait."

_He needs to bring her food, make her eat it, maybe he mixed the meds wrong this afternoon…_

"No it can't wait. Carol will watch her. Upstairs. Now." Daryl knows that tone, but ignores it.

He's too busy still staring down at Fin's unconscious form to notice Rick moving up behind him until his hand drops to his shoulder, he shrugs it off, jerks away with a snarl.

"Later Rick."

"No. Now." Rick steps back from his reach the second he's on his feet. They glower at each other in silence.

Carol peeks over her shoulder at Rick's expression, the corners of her mouth turn down like she might have something more to add to their exchange but all she verbalizes is a quick; "I'll watch her Daryl, it's okay."

"I'm not leaving her: so talk."

Carol tenses, looks ready to throw herself between them at any second…he suddenly realizes his hands are clenched into white knuckled fists at his sides, feels his face contorted into an expression he hasn't worn since his brother was around…he has to make a conscious effort to relax them both.

"We're gonna talk about what happened at that farm house. You really think that's something she needs to wake up and hear?!"

Rick's glare sends a hot knife through his chest. He deflates instantly.

_No it isn't._

He never wants her to think about that again, and he can't say what he needs to …not with Carol staring at him wide eyed like that. She doesn't know…but judging by the way she starts biting her lip she's started imagining all kinds of nightmares he has no desire to confirm.

The more people know, the more real it feels…the more it burns his insides like acid and hot coals.

His eyes dart away to his boots, shoulders slumping further one hand rubs at his suddenly burning eyes.

Carol's outrage and disgust at his failures would be just as bad as Fin's…maybe worse; she knew everyone he failed to save.

He flees past Rick up the hallway like the true coward he is, needing to get away from Carol and Seraphim both…his shoulders collapse, rolling further under her questioning gaze as he retreats with his tail between his fucking legs.

_Merle was right, his God Damn brother was right. He is a fucking good for nothing pussy. A fucking weakling scared of his own shadow, running away from his failures. _

He's scared shitless of what Carol will think if she hears this; how she'll judge him…the hate and worse pity he might see in her eyes when she realizes just how weak he really is.

_She told him to be strong, but he's not strong…he's not._

He's a coward, and a failure, and pretty soon everyone will know it, but the worst by far will be watching both Carol and Seraphim; that moment when they realize what he is… and then they'll be done with him: and he'll have nothing left.

Fuck how many times has he failed to keep them both safe already? It's a wonder they're here now.

He nearly lost Carol at the farm, twice more over the winter, in the tombs at the prison…he almost didn't open that swinging door…he'd have left her there to die never knowing his betrayal…he left her for his brother, didn't go after her when she left after Rick sent her off…

And Seraphim? _Fuck._

How long will it take for her to grow tired of his failed attempts to keep her safe?

He almost got her killed in the woods by Caleb, nearly let her drown, freeze to death, failed to keep her safe from Kyle and Eli and Robert…she got shot and stabbed and thrown off a fucking roof not three feet from where he was standing…

What fucking good is he to anyone?

Rick must know it, that's why he's so upset; he's realized what a mistake it was to send him out with her; expecting him to protect her.

He's fucking useless and everyone knows it.

_Pretty soon he won't have anyone left; not at the rate he's failing them: No family, no friends…not even the girl who promised to Stay…. _

_He stops cold._

_Shit. _

There's a stranger's fist squeezing the life out of his heart, digging at his chest, burning him with that terrifying thought and Fuck, it's the woods all over again after the Peacock farm, and the finding that bite on her neck just moments after he got her back; had her in his fucking arms only to have his chest ripped open all over again…he can't do it. If she leaves it will do what Merle and his father and this whole fucked up world couldn't:

It will destroy him.

Now what the hell is he supposed to do?

It's there now, there's no ignoring it. The sway she has over him is terrifying, he can feel it swell up out of his twisting insides, it burns behind his eyes and seizes the air halfway to his lungs into a strangled choking sound.

His hands are shaking by his side, he wipes his palms on his pant legs with a vicious swipe trying to rid them of the cold sweet that wasn't there just a moment before.

He stopped so suddenly that Rick almost slams into his back in the dark.

"Daryl?"

"S fine." He keeps walking, tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut, the hollow ache in his chest. Rick follows close on his heels. Neither of them speak again as they climb to the top level.

Glenn and Maggie, Michonne and Tyreese are all sitting around the fire pit. Michonne stands up when she takes in Rick's expression behind him, her eyes narrowing flicking between the two of them immediately registering the tension.

"Everything alright?"

Rick nods and waves his hand indicating she should sit back down, she does but looks reluctant about it. Daryl can feel her eyes boring into his back as Rick follows him the rest of the way to the roof.

He wants to be as far away from all of them as possible for this.

Not to hide his shame, there's no point to that now; but because she doesn't need everyone in the group knowing if they don't already exactly what happened that night; realizing just how badly he failed to protect her…

He paces to the edge of the roof once he reaches the top, presses his hands against the concrete half wall staring out into the darkness hiding the pavement and the surrounding trees, the cold night air and lack of any moon has draped the rest of the world in a blanket of nothingness.

"Now, you wanna tell me what happened out there? Cause I knew it was sorta bad, but now I'm thinking I have no idea just how bad. I'm sorry to do this to you but Glenn and Tyreese wouldn't say anything beyond 'Fin got hurt,' which is kinda obvious. Told me to ask Fin, and since that doesn't seem wise I'm asking you. Because whatever just happened down there, that was a _Hell_ of a lot more than just what happened with Lizzie!"

Rick crosses his arms waiting, Daryl can feel the weight of his stare even with his back still turned. "So, you wanna tell me exactly what happened out there that's sent a girl who was one of the most stable people we've ever come across into a total fucking tailspin?"

_Fuck. _He stands there for a moment jaw clenching repeatedly, guilt and pain ripping through his insides, slamming into him like a tidal wave under Rick's glare.

"Glenn 'n them were staying with a family." His cold detached tone sounds alien and flat even to his own ears.

"They mentioned that."

"They mention they were some kinda redneck Cannibals?"

Rick nods again the lines around his eyes deepening with his scowl, his jaw clenches while he waits for the rest of it.

"Did they tell you that I fucked up trying to get everyone out on my own, and she ended up trying to save all our sorry asses? That she used herself as fucking bait?! Did they tell you it's _My Fucking Fault?! Did They_!?"

Rick just stares at him while he paces spiting the words out, each step more agitated then the last until he's stomping the short distance between Rick and the wall, screaming the words into the darkness.

"What do you want me to say Rick?! You want me to tell you we escaped just in time to find Eli and Kyle raping her upstairs? That those _Sick Fucks_ thought it was fun to bite her 'til they drew blood and THAT was what Lizzie saw that made her Shoot Fin in the Head?!"

"Daryl Don't!"

His fist hits the wall pain explodes up his arm in a sharp burst while his knuckles sting where the skin splits over bone with the impact. He draws his arm back to do it again when Rick stops him with another shout. Makes a grab for him, trying to lock his arms to his sides to keep him from striking the wall again doing more damage to himself. Heat swallows up all reason, smothers it with a blind rage that has him shoving Rick off him with a wordless snarl and lashing out blindly at his second attempt to stop him; fist swinging at Rick instead of the wall this time.

But Rick is still quick on his feet, or he expected it; maybe both.

Maybe he's just not really that interested in hurting anyone but himself.

That feels about right. Something in him want's Rick to take a swing back, snarls and twists in frustration when he doesn't.

Rick pins his arms to his side, dragging him down to his knees with his weight. Arms tightening over his keeping him there, not that he could get up right now if he tried; he can't seem to control his breathing, or his vision or the ringing in his ears…

"Jesus, Fuck. It's all my fault…" Just drawing air into his lungs is impossible.

"It is _Not_ your fault." Rick's hiss barely reaches his ears, doesn't penetrate through the thick fog of guilt and rage welling up in his chest.

"Yes it is…"

Rick is shaking his head furiously; shakes Daryl's whole frame with his grip on his chest stops him from sobbing it again, nearly has him biting off the tip of his tongue.

"It isn't! People do shitty things, just because you can't stop them all doesn't make you responsible for them! Do not do that to yourself; don't go down that road."

"But fuck… Rick I was right there…_I was right fucking there…_it was like the Governor all over again…" His voice breaks, seems to be strangled to nothing more than a hoarse whisper in his aching throat. "All those people, fuck…"

His chin drops to his chest, hiding behind a thick curtain of dark locks, ashamed of the failure more than the tears they bring.

"Everyone we've lost, I failed them all…"

He waves his hand in a wild gesture at the darkness, presses his fists over his eyes trying to block out all their faces, some of them are nothing more than a blur, others are perfect imprints; voices and faces and names that seize his heart in his chest and make his breathing snag into a broken sob he can't pretend isn't his.

"I'm a fucking dumb ass for thinking I could do something, change anything… She was fine until we came along…I almost fucking got her killed; Caleb nearly fucking drowned her right in front of me…and then she just walks right onto that farm like it's nothing, trades her life for mine and I aint worth it…"

God he's never felt less worthy in his horrible shit hole of a life. How could he expect to save all of them when he can't even keep one precious girl safe?

No matter what he does pain seems to follow…He should just leave, get as fucking far away from them all as possible so he can't do any more damage to them all…to her…

"Daryl that is a load of shit. There is no way that you let any of us down, ever. Shit happens. Hell, if it wasn't for you I would have been dead ten times over, Carl and Judith...Beth and Carol…we'd all be dead if it wasn't for you."

He shakes his head against Rick's words until Rick shakes him again.

"Don't give me that bullshit, we need you. Your strength, your abilities… We depend on you, hell I depend on you more then you know. You're a better man then me, and it isn't fair for me to ask this, I know that. And I'm sorry. But I need you to keep it together Brother, not just for me, but for her too. I don't know exactly what happened out there while you were gone. I can't imagine what you're going through…but I'm damn sure if it wasn't for you she wouldn't be here right now. And I'm not just talking about saving her life, if it wasn't for you she'd have obviously split by now."

He's shaking his head, eyes squeezed tight. Rick shakes him with his hands still resting on his shoulders like he can shake his words into him, make them into the truth.

"Woodbury? That was not your fault. The Prison? That was not your fault. Whatever happened at that Farm? That is not your fault. Hell I had a chance to kill that Son of a Bitch before and I didn't take it…Michonne had a chance to kill him too…you can't be responsible for that burden, you can't Brother. It's too much."

Neither of them speaks for a full minute.

"Don't do anything stupid, she's a mess right now, and I can't handle you being a mess at the same time. So you accept this as the truth, because that's what it is. We need you, and so does she, you can't go stepping out right now."

"I don't…" he presses his fists to his eyes his knuckles sting and ache where the skin is split.

"I don't know how to do this," He's just going to fuck it all up, he knows it.

"Who does? Shit. One step at a time man. She chose you. You figure it out together."

The sit for a few minutes in silence.

"Come on, I'll get Carol upstairs so she doesn't see that hand; post pone her tearing you a new ass. I need to talk to her anyway."

He stares at his split bleeding hand for a moment lips pursed tight. "It's not that bad."

Rick snorts offering him a hand to pull him up off the pavement. "Yeah, somehow I don't think that's going to work with either of them."

Rick's expression is serious, eyes catching what little light comes up through the hole in the rooftop they're standing near now. "We're gonna have a meeting tomorrow, you don't have to go. That's why I wanted to talk to you now; figure out what needs to be said, what doesn't."

Daryl finds himself nodding, words not really necessary anymore.

"This stays between us, but don't you forget what I said; I do not want to have to follow you around knockin sense back into your head."

He feels himself snort, eyes dart away into the darkness lips twitching towards a grin, shaking his head.

"Pfft, like you could pull one over on me, that'd be the day old man."

"Bring it on, I could take you."

They climb back down in silence both grinning. His chest feels considerably looser as he climbs back down, the tight knot no longer twisting beneath his ribs. It feels good to breathe deeply again.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: **Yeah not mine, the universe is unfair like that, I'd trade AMC a used laptop and a lot of used paperback books for Daryl…think that would work? : 3

**Notes: **Big thanks to all the readers, I promise the drama is coming; poor Fin still needs a little bit of recovery time though…one can only take so many concussions and arrows to the knee, so to speak, before wanting to throw in the towel! : p

Big thanks to Angelinaa for beta/notes and general acts of awesome hilarity; seriously I can't read her emails while drinking milk; it doesn't feel good coming out my nose. XD

You ROCK!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

Everyone is eating when they come back down from the roof.

Rick passes him to grab a plate, grinning at Carl who's laughing at something Michonne is telling him, he sits down with the plate in his lap next to Michonne obviously eager to eat.

Daryl catches Rick's crooked grin at Michonne before he turns away.

Huh, maybe it's the company, and not the food.

He doesn't want everyone to see his split knuckles, or his red eyes so he heads towards the ladder for downstairs.

"Daryl, Wait!" Beth follows him, he stops; hasn't seen much of her since he left with Fin weeks ago. She holds something with a red lid in her hands, offers it to him. "You can't carry a plate down a ladder." She smiles proudly up at him.

He grabs the Tupperware container from between her hands with his good arm nodding his thanks to her though he's not all that hungry, and he's not that sure Seraphim'll want to eat when she wakes up tonight, but better safe than sorry.

Especially with Carol's comment about her not eating enough for the last two weeks.

Beth doesn't leave, just keeps staring up at him blinking all expectant like. "Uh, Thanks," He wonders if his face is visibly splotchy from crying in the firelight, if it is she doesn't comment on it. Beth just smiles up at him.

"No problem, I can bring you something else later, if you like." She's twisting her hands in front of her eyes all wide. _The hell…?_

"Nah, I'm good." He waves her back to the group and heads downstairs to send Carol up to talk to Rick and hopefully eat...she hasn't done much of that herself.

His skin over his split knuckles and the bones in his hand burn on the rungs of the ladders all the way down to the ground floor.

He's grateful it's mostly dark in the hallway below, that it hides his hand from Carol at least for a while. She wouldn't approve of him losing his shit like that.

He can perfectly picture the face she's going to make tomorrow when she sees his poorly bandaged hand. Just like at the farm; mouth all pinched up eyes narrowed 'til the little wrinkles form at the corners. It won't matter that he busted it up on a concrete wall instead of Rick's face…She'll huff and look at him and make him feel like a scolded child without having to utter a sound. She's good at that…mothering everyone, s'pecially him, he's still not sure why he lets her; maybe cause he needs it every once in a while, just doesn't want to admit it.

"Everything alright?" Carol stares at him in the darkness still sitting next to Fin's quiet sleeping form.

"Yeah," he clears his throat. If she hears how thick his reply is from crying she doesn't comment, she's good like that.

"Rick wants to talk to you; an dinner is ready up there." He waves his thumb over his shoulder indicating that she should scoot.

Carol nods, presses her hand to his shoulder briefly squeezing as she passes him. "She's fine, just plain wore out. You need to get her to eat when she wakes up or she's just going to keep passing out on us; she's lost too much weight the last two weeks."

Daryl sets the plastic container on the over turned egg crate beside the bed. He slumps down onto the mattress next to her before pulling his boots off one at a time, letting them thump to the floor. He grabs the gauze roll beside the barely lit kerosene lamp and wraps his busted knuckles till half his palm and the first knuckle of his fingers is swathed in film. He rips the gauze with his other hand, then wraps some of the medical tape left on the end table over the gauze so it doesn't unwind while he's asleep.

That done finally he stands back up pulling open his belt, and pants dropping those as well too exhausted to care that Carol or anyone might come check on them later, find him naked and her in just his t-shirt. He slips under the sheets next to her laying on his side facing her in the dark.

Her hair is still damp, and loose; though Carol must have run the towel through it while he was gone, and swapped out pillows because it's nowhere near as wet as it was before. He presses his thumb and forefinger to his eyes just breathing slowly in and out for a long while, mind drifting in the darkness.

When she stirs, says his name he drops his hand from his face, wraps his arm around her waist pulling her to his chest, dips his head down against her hair to breath her in.

She murmurs something he doesn't quite catch, words still slurred with sleep, the way she's shaking under his hands the distress in her breathing he doesn't have to guess what's woken her, he recognizes the telltale signs of her restless dreams by now.

She tries to push herself up on her elbow, gasping when it pulls at her shoulder. His arm tightens around her his other hand threading through her damp hair at her neck holding her still 'til she wakes up enough not to jerk and hurt herself.

Her breathing evens out after a moment, her arm wraps around his waist she sighs against his chest though it's still a little uneven, just a bit wobbly.

"It's okay, it's just a nightmare, you're safe."

She shakes her head against his neck, hand tightening over his bicep, her other arm wrapping tighter around his back. She feels so small pressed against him like she is. She's still shaking, hot damp tears press to his chest.

"What's wrong?"

She doesn't reply for a long time. "Just a nightmare." His hands slide down her back.

"It's alright your safe."

She shakes her head under his chin, voice small. "It wasn't me, it was you…" She pauses again shudders against his chest.

"I'm fine, see? Right here, not going anywhere."

"I saw you a long time ago…back when you were looking for Carol's daughter Sophia." The words just seem to tumble out of her mouth in a rush.

He stares down at the top of her head in the darkness. "What?"

"The house Daryl, in that overgrown field? Woods all around it, red rust bucket of a roof, floral sheets over all the windows? You picked up the can of tuna I ate the night before…I saw you and I hid because I didn't know who you were…I didn't know what kind of a person you were. Even after I heard you calling for Sophia, realized you were looking for someone who was lost I still hid…"

_Shit._ "You were sleeping in the pantry?" She's small enough to scrunch down like that…She was there back then? His arm tightens around her unconsciously feeling her nod against his skin.

His breath catches in his chest at all the possibilities.

She could have been on the farm with them; could have come back with him…been there all along. He could have stopped the Peacocks from ever finding her… she could have been there when Hershel was injured, when Lori went into labor…

She could have done something maybe, changed something…but then she'd have been there when the farm fell; and when the prison was attacked both times…

He could have lost her any of those times.

"Maybe a good thing you didn't show yourself, I was a little rough around the edges back then…" His voice is gruff. Feels thick and heavy sticks in the back of his throat on the knot there thinking about what he might have said. Just how badly he'd have stuck his foot in it if he'd found her out there that day…

She'd probably have beaten the shit out of him and walked away never looking back.

She snorts, her tone teasing, "And you're not now?"

"Shudup."

"What's the dumbest think you've ever done?"

His face scrunches up. _Shit he could write a whole book on that topic._ "Hell you wanna know that for?"

"I jumped off a cliff, had to be 4 stories high? There was a river running underneath it; with this sinkhole maybe twenty feet around if that under the surface…and if I didn't hit it just right…splat."

"How old were you?"

She grins against his skin. "The first time? Old enough to know better, young enough not to think about the consequences…I was 10."

No doubt something her hooligan cousin's put her up to. "They jump too?"

She nods smiling against his chest. "Did it every year 'til I started college, I guess that's why I'm not afraid of heights anymore. Now you."

He grumbles leaning away from her then sitting up, grabs the red lidded container off the egg crate and thrusts it into her hand in the dark.

"Eat and I'll talk."

She sits up pushing a few loose locks of red gold hair behind her ears in the dark and takes it from him popping the lid and sniffing it. He waits 'til she's chewing her third bite to continue.

"Me and Merle, my brother…we stole a bunch of ammo from my Dad…didn't think he'd miss it seeing as he was stone drunk all the damn time…didn' have no guns to shoot it off with; think he kept that shit locked up on account of Merle. Anyway, we take them up to the local High School, start droppen 'em off the top of the stadium onto the concrete cause Merle wants to see if they'll go off…"

"Did they?"

"Not all of 'em…" He grins at the memory.

_Merle's face pure shock as he jerked his head back over the railing at the first loud pop echoing around the field. _

_His brother thrusting the plastic bag at him a second later; all big ears and buzzed hair cut his adolescent lips curled back in a smirk that wouldn't pick up a lot of its trademark cruelty 'til a few years later… _

"_Com'on let's see you do it, or are you a lil' pansy ass?" Merle stares down at him._

Her voice pulls him back from the memory so sharp he swears he can smell the gunpowder on his fingertips…

"Shit, you're still here so obviously you lived…"

"Yeah, turns out bullet's still make enough sound to draw attention when they explode on concrete; Merle was in Juvie for 6 weeks after that…We split up and ran like hell but I was faster. My old man beat the snot outta both of us when we got home, course… first me; then Merle when the cops brought him home…"

"I'm sorry."

"Pfft, was one of the few times we deserved it." He finds himself shrugging instead of growing angry when he thinks about his father.

It was a dumb ass thing to do. If his kids did something so dumb he'd probably be tempted to light their butts up too…course he'd never use a belt…He pauses suddenly staring off into the dark, his breath slips out in a swift huff.

"What is it?" Her hand slips up his arm.

His silence must be telling somehow, he shrugs in the darkness. "Jus' think'n if my kids did that, I'd prolly be tempted to whoop their behinds too."

_Shit. Kids._ He can't look at her suddenly. Has to keep his eyes on the darkness around them to keep from picturing it in his head…_too late._

_Little kids with dark wild hair and bright green eyes…_

Her voice pulls him back.

"I got my ass beat once."

"Just once?" Somehow her glare in the dark still makes him fidget. "Whadga do?"

"Almost burned the house down."

He waits for her to elaborate. She finally does after a few bites.

"Found this Mason jar of clear liquid in my gran-daddy's shed next to the lawn mower…"

"Moonshine?"

She shakes her head, shrugging in the dark.

"Might have been; thought it was gasoline. Whatever it was it burned like wildfire…Anyways so I'm playing with it in the back yard, dumping a little bit out on things, lighting it with a match and I think, 'wouldn't it be cool to see what liquid looks like when it's on fire?' Cause my cousin told me he saw oil burn on a lake once, like the water was on fire….so I dropped a match in the jar and it went out."

She pauses to grab another bite, slapping his hand away playfully with a grin when he reaches inside the container. "Get your own."

The way her gaze slides over him, the quick grin.

He's the one playing with fire lately; can't stop the burn that goes all the way to his belly when she raises her hand, licks her fingers.

_Shit. Damn girl is doing it on purpose too. _

His palms slide up her bare legs 'til her breath catches. He pretends not to notice, set on ignoring how the sound clenches his insides, speeds the beat of his heart.

_God help him he's in deep. _

He's pleased his voice is steady, somehow unaffected when he speaks a second later. "So what happened?"

"So I took one of my gran-daddy's rags out of the shed, lit that on fire and dipped it in the jar….and POOF! Now I've got this flaming jar of liquid and all I can think is I don't know how to put it out and my step-daddy is gonna come home and tear my ass up. I panic and think; I know, I'll pour it down the sink…"

He groans, shaking his head. His hands have a mind of their own; it seems, sliding up her legs once more. "Did you burn down half the house?"

"No, tripped going up the concrete steps to the back door and dropped the jar, lucky I didn't lite my face on fire. My mom put it out with the fire extinguisher from the kitchen when she heard me yelling."

He sits there digesting that for a minute.

"Yeah I'd probably have to beat your ass for that too." She shoves his shoulder with one hand in the dark.

"So you're brother's name is Merle?"

He nods slowly. "Was."

"I'm sorry…" she pauses for a moment. "Was he…"

"What?" He's not sure he wants to talk about him even now.

"Was he at Woodbury?"

He stares hard at her outline in the dark, leans back and turns up the kerosene lamp behind him so he can see her face. "Hell you know about that?!"

She fidgets with her hands in her lap for a second. "I think I met him once."

"Where? You were at Woodbury?"

"No, in the woods. He came up, surprised me, asked me if I was alone…when I told him yes he told me to run."

"What exactly did he say to you?" It can't be him, he let her go? He was supposed to be the governor's right hand man and he let her go?

"Exactly? I think the words were 'Careful there Little Red, awful lot of Big Badies out here in these woods; some of 'em are coming right now. You best split on out of here real quick, for I change my mind.' I took off and he went the other way. I don't know what that governor would have done if they caught me out there. But I doubt it would have been pleasant."

"Shit, Merle did something nice?" He hadn't just tried to redeem himself in the end; he'd been trying little by little to change the whole time… something is squeezing the back of his throat.

Merle'd saved Fin's life, and Daryl never even knew it…

"Yeah, since he's your brother I thought you'd want to know."

He's nodding his head, has to blink a few times staring down at his lap.

"Wanna talk about something else?"

He nods again.

"Okay, anything you want to know?"

"Yeah," he can think of a million questions, but only one burns when it crosses his mind.

"Why me?"

"What?" She stares at him.

"Why me? What's so special about me that you would risk your life for mine; what made you pick me?"

She twists and sets the container down on the egg crate behind her, face thoughtful and calm when she turns back around to face him once more.

He watches her throat tightening as she pushes up onto her knees, closes the distance between them until she's leaning into him. His hands raise to her sides, fingers brushing over the hem of his shirt against her hips, sliding under the hem to slip up over her skin ghosting over her hips, up across her ribs…

"First of all, you're a complete _Idiot_ Daryl Dixon, and Second; I was going to ask you the same thing."

Whatever response he might come up with is lost against her lips, his search for one abandoned the second her tongue brushes over his.

He drops back to the mattress pulling her with him; twisting until she's underneath him never letting go of her lips hands wandering over her skin, under his shirt yanking it over her head.

With her pressed against him, wrapped around him, he forgets all about questions, and answers and his insecurities.

_Who needs words when there's this?_

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**Next update will probably be Spaghetti Tuesday (on Wednesday) as my schedule is mad crazy this weekend/week! Thanks for staying with the story this long, and all the awesome reviews/PM's and FB messages! You guys make sitting in front of the laptop until 3am enjoyable!...well...that and getting to play with Daryl Dixon! haha : D**


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: **_ They're sadly not mine, Drat. I was hoping that would change to! P_hooew!

**Notes: ** Happy Saturday Peeps! ONE MORE DAY! *flails* I'm so nervous...was anyone else screaming at the TV for Maggie and Glenn to get the hell away from 'Mary' and the BBQ pit?! Zomg. *dies*

Big thanks to all the readers for waiting for this post; I know it took longer then normal! I hope you will find it was worth the wait!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Heat curls through my middle, spreads down my limbs leaving my cheeks flushed.

Just from that look.

He's not even touching me.

I try to ignore the instant rush of heat, the quiver that starts low in my belly, fluttering through my chest with the press of my pulse, all from just the memory…I shiver, unable to stop the images from heating my cheeks.

_The way his hands shook just like they did the first night…His eyes holding me captive. _It makes me tremble even now.

His gaze unfathomably dark and deep in the low light; an inescapable sea of brilliant blue I couldn't look away from, could barely bring myself to blink; knowing it would mean losing sight of him even for an instant. Neither of us could look away.

Closing my eyes now I can still feel the imprint of his palm against my cheek, pressing his forehead to mine as he moved over me, deep inside me, possessing me with an almost unbearable aching slowness that left me breathless, trembling and clinging to him in the dark…

Heat prickles behind my eyes, blooms through my chest warming me all the way to my toes just thinking about the overwhelming sensations that look sent through me. My hands shake.

…_that wasn't fucking _

_it wasn't sex… _

_God no… _

_that was…_

_Somehow beyond words…_

My bewildered brain has been struggling to classify it for days.

'_Intense' falls achingly short in description…_

'_Surrender' isn't quite right either…_

'_Possession' hits close…_

_Love._

I second hard shiver rolls down my spine. I pull in a steadying breath; keep my focus on my hands.

I heard him come up the ladder before. But I already know his feeling on this, and I can't wait any longer. I feel like I'm going crazy doing nothing but 'taking it easy.' Especially when it feels like he's somehow afraid to touch me all over again…I need something to distract me, I'm desperate for it.

Just when I think I've got him figured out I'll catch that look on his face again, just a flash…but it burns me; that depth in his eyes makes my heart leap and my breath catch and I'm off trembling and spinning all over again…

"You sure you're ready to do that?" He leans against the concrete wall, lips forming a tight scowl, arms crossed over his chest.

"It's been two weeks Daryl." I bite the inside of my cheek to hide the wince raising my arm and drawing back brings to my face.

I need to get my strength back; only one way to do that. My bow is set to a pathetic forty pound draw weight…not high enough to do much damage to anything…except maybe a squirrel.

My arrow is off the mark by at least a foot.

He stares at the exposed arrow sticking out at the end of the run; next to a bunch of other arrows; also irritatingly not where I wanted them to go.

He doesn't comment, scowl deepening. I look up at him when he twists off the wall with a shove of his hands, grabbing his crossbow off the table near the wall.

I watch him stalk towards me; there's no other word for the smooth rolling glide of each step, the narrow hard set of his eyes.

It absolutely does not make my pulse race and my cheeks heat.

I square my shoulders watching him approach. There's just the barest hint of an ache under my clavicle when I do so, reminding me that I'm not healed; not yet. Like I need the constant reminder with Daryl dogging my every step…and when he isn't Carol is.

His hands wrap around my bow, pull it from my fingers when I don't protest.

He lunges slowly away from where I'm standing to set it carefully against the floor a few feet from the scuffed line of duct tape marking the distance that I was just shooting from.

When he straightens back up something behind his blue eyes has shifted, darkened.

It makes my stomach flip even before his fingers lock around my hip; two of his rough calloused fingers press into my bare skin where my shirt has raised up. I let him turn me without protest; half curious and completely distracted by the firm press of his chest against my back.

He hasn't touched me…not like this in almost two weeks; it's enough to make my head spin. He lies next to me every night; but his touch has been chaste since that night.

A hard shiver rolls down my spine, making my nipples harden and my hands tremble. When I glance over my shoulder at him his eyes bore into mine like he knows.

I twist forward again have to pull in a steadying breath. I've been teasing him for four days now, and judging by the heat in that look he's decided to play along.

The idea has my heart leaping into my throat and delicious heat curling through my center.

He raises the crossbow in front of us, arms encircling my shoulders, my hands instinctively raise to the stock. He keeps one hand on the bow, supporting the bulk of its weight. His other hand dropping to my arm, sliding up to support my elbow so that aiming the bow doesn't pull at my aching shoulder as much.

His thumb brushes over the soft skin just inside my forearm the split second before I pull the trigger.

His lips quirk at the arrow down range, even farther off the mark then the last shot.

"Little distracted there?"

"Shudup." _God I'm even starting to sound like him…_

His amusement quirks his lips further into a smirk, eyes slipping over me as he steps away to grab another bolt. Reloads with a well-practiced ease and nimble fingers, never taking his eyes off me. Then he steps behind me again, pulling me flush against his body from chest to hips with a little more force than necessary making me gasp.

We're pressed together again from chest to hips, a noise resonates through my back, from deep in his chest, it sounds like approval. I twist to peer at him over my shoulder watch his eyes darken a shade further before his arms come up brushing my sides, trapping me again and bringing the bow back around in front of us.

His breath tickles the back of my neck making my skin prickle with goose bumps.

His fingers slide from my arm to hip again, not stopping... Dipping lower still while I shiver; try to ignore the heat centered under his touch. How it spreads and flutters up my spine when his palm slides over my skin with the pretense of keeping me straight for the shot. His fingertips slip down to trace over the taught skin just inches below my navel skating under my clothes; but just barely.

I bite my lip to stop any sound from escaping.

_This time_, I tell myself; _I'm ready for his distraction._

I'm already expecting the slow crawl of his hands over heated skin…_I'm not going to lose this game_.

I focus down range and squeeze the trigger on an exhale.

_God Damnit_.

I twist and dig my elbow into his ribs with a noise of frustration to stop his soft snicker against my neck when I miss again.

Nibbling someone's ear like that should be illegal.

Daryl's eyes glint with wicked amusement while I glare up at him. He makes a show of raising his hand to shield his eyes staring at the arrows.

"Hmm, your right…this needs a lot of work."

"Shut it!" _He's impossible. _

_Only Daryl could turn target practice into temptation…_

I duck under his arms before he can grab me, snatching another arrow from the rack and stepping back against him.

I press into his chest with enough force that it drives an exhale from his lungs, makes him step back to keep his balance, his hand raises to my side again; but it does nothing to the smug glint in his eyes; if anything it gets worse.

I glare back over my shoulder holding the arrow out for him to grab.

"Reload."

He stares down at me, lips still twisting up in what looks suspiciously like a grin. "Maybe we should stand closer to the target."

_I'm gonna smack him. _

"Let's see you do it then," His eyes narrow down at me, his breath huffs out against my skin.

I smile as sweetly as I can, just to watch his eyes shift, the nervous swallow he can't stop.

He grunts, makes a show of shrugging his shoulder, reloading the bow and stepping up behind me again.

This time when I press back against his chest and hips, I aim to melt against him, sliding my hands down his arms with just my fingertips touching him.

I shift back against his hips, push up onto my toes and have to bite my lip when he presses flush against me and I can feel exactly how much this affects him being in our current position. I raise my good arm, twist my fingers through his hair, not pulling his head down; I don't need to; not yet, just this is already messing up his breathing enough that when I turn my face, press my nose against his neck, just above his shirt collar I hide a smile against his skin. I'm too short to reach his ear, but that's okay, I don't need to .

The muscles in his arms tense when I exhale against his skin, he swallows when I say his name, inhales slowly trying to ignore my mouth pressed to the underside of his chin against his throat. The second I feel his forearm tense to pull the trigger I tilt my head up and whisper my request in the breathiest voice I can manage.

Which considering the way he's pressed around me, the heat soaking into my skin from his touch is all too easy to do.

I don't even look to see where his arrow ends up.

I don't need to after he jerks, cursing at my words.

He curses again in a gruff voice, bow dropping one handed to his side, his other hand comes up in the same instant to grab the back of my head. Pinning me in place, keeping my nose mere inches from his while he shakes his head slowly. I stare back at him grinning as he drops his chin to look at me, his gaze predatory and calculating.

"What's wrong? Did you miss?" I keep my voice as innocent as possible.

He stops me from turning my head to check, fingers tightening his lips part with an unsteady exhale while his eyes dart to my lips.

"Careful girl," It's a rough growl that matches the wildly possessive gleam in his bright grey blue eyes.

Something in that look makes me feel bolder even while my stomach does a nervous flip, heat curling at the base of my spine in reaction.

"Or what?" My brow quirks up, tongue darts out to wet suddenly dry lips. My breath catches when his eyes drop to my mouth hover there gaze intense enough to send heat spiraling through my chest.

I press back against him, watch his reaction in the tightening of his jawline, the catch in his breath.

I reach over to the table for another arrow, barely able to get my fingers pinched over the feathered tail of the closest one pulling it towards us with him not letting me move from his grasp. His eyes don't leave my lips, hands still wrapped around the back of my neck.

I lean forward on my toes, let my words slip out against his lips barely touching him.

"Best two out of three?"

He doesn't take the arrow from my hand, hands drop to slide over my hips twisting me to face the targets again. The bow comes up in front of me his arms pressed to my sides.

"Load it." His voice is more growl then words.

I grab the string, pulling back with both hands until it clicks, have to press my shoulders into his chest to steady myself with the movement burning through my shoulder. Then slide the bolt into place glancing over my shoulder at him my breath catching in my throat, cheeks heating.

I turn to watch the target feel his biceps tense against my shoulders his head tilts as he looks over my shoulder down range.

I bite my lip when his exhale brushes the skin at my neck, reach one hand back to grasp him when he releases the trigger.

He jumps cursing against my neck. "Shit."

"I think you're supposed to hit the target…"

His crossbow drops to his side clutched in one hand, then slides to the floor with a clatter. His voice is low, rough. "Hard to shoot straight with your wandering hands."

_Hmmm. Now who's got wandering hands?_ He lets me twist to face him, eyes watching me while I hook the fingers of one hand into the front pocket of his pants, my other hand sliding up his arm.

"What are you gonna do Daryl?" His fingers tighten against my skin sending another flood of wicked desire through my stomach.

He hums like he's thinking it over, all the while backing me up with his hands on my hips eyes darkening with each step.

"Thinkin 'bout ripping your clothes off right here."

Heat flushes up my neck straight to my cheeks, melts through my chest sliding down to a tingling flutter low in my belly, when his mouth presses to my neck fire races up my spine and my pulse hums, my stomach does a little flip.

"uh…" My brain short circuited obviously.

His lips twitch. Then drops to a scowl when we both hear footsteps overhead. "Shit."

Carl comes halfway down the ladder sees me and stops eyes wild completely oblivious to the fact that he almost walked in on something else entirely.

"Hey! Have you guys ever seen blue smoke?"

I jerk to face Carl so fast the muscles in my neck spasm.

"What?! Where!?" He climbs the rest of the way down Daryl is frowning at me expression guarded.

"On the roof, Tyreese saw it. It's pretty cool, do you know what makes it…Fin?"

I'm already halfway up the ladder, racing to the next one, climbing up and bolting across the rooftop weaving in and out of the little window greenhouses scattered there.

Rick Tyreese, and Michonne have gathered near the edge. Leaning against the half wall overlooking the lot.

A thin plume of undeniably blue smoke split's the sky in the distance, curling like frayed yarn tethering the grey sky to the tree line in the distance. There's no wind today, Ten miles out maybe? Fifteen?

I jerk open the plastic storage shelving unit that stands against the warehouse's roof AC storage unit, grab the brick I need in my right hand, the lighter fluid container in my left.

"What are you doing?" Rick's is standing behind me.

I grab the metal drum I need; drag it into the center of the roof away from the AC unit. From here it can burn clear into the sky. I'm upending the liquid over the wood piled in the drum striking a match with shaking fingers dropping it over the wood.

Have to jerk my hand back from the whoosh of exhilarant going up in less than a second. Rick frowns staring at the thick dark smoke curling toward the sky.

"You want to explain to me what's going on?"

"Blue smoke, you need chemicals; minerals to make blue smoke."

He's staring at me eyes hard. I lift the brick in my hand toss in onto the wood.

"Do you know who that is?"

"I might."

"Should we be giving away our position on a 'might'?" Tyreese has a point but I have to risk it.

_I have to_…

I toss the block into the flames watch it spark and hiss as smoke begins to curl away from it. I step back to avoid the acidic orange-red smoke rising up into the sky.

"How long has the smoke been blue?"

"Maybe ten minutes? It changed just after the smoke started. Never seen anything burn like that; figured it was some kind of message for someone."

I resist the urge to cross my fingers.

"It is." I stare over the trees watch the column of smoke break on the horizon; disappearing for a few seconds before rising up again in a single distinct puff before the solid column begins again.

I'm grinning when I pull the heavy wool blanket from the storage shelves dunk it into the full rain barrel near the AC unit's corner sloshing cold liquid onto my boots and legs. I get even more wet hauling its heavy weight back out. The heavy wool soaks through my shirt, drips down to drench my thighs as I haul it back towards the fire pit draping the wet material over the pit's frame blocking out the smoke trail.

I count the seconds in my head before pulling it back, leaping back so the resulting heavy plume of smoke doesn't choke my lungs before covering it again.

Tyreese helps me remove it the second time. We step back to watch the thick ball of red tinted smoke against the grey sky then I'm spinning to watch the smoke in the distance almost holding my breath waiting until the smoke turns red in the distance and I'm whooping with laughter, snatching another colored brick from the shelf using the tongs to drag what's left of the half burnt first block from the logs and tossing on the second one.

The smoke curls away from the fire pit a now a distinct sea-green.

I watch the smoke puff in the distance again, breaking the single column into several long then short puffs spelling out a message in the sky that has me grinning so hard my cheeks hurt and I can barely breath, hands shaking as I answer back.

"Put this out, before someone else sees it!" No sense in taking extra chances. I'm already grabbing the backpack stuffed in the lowest shelf of the cabinet, pulling it out, slinging it over my shoulder and racing across the roof to the ladder leading to the trucking container roof.

Rick follows me across the rooftop, Michonne on his heels. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back, I have to finish the message."

"Hold on, what was that? Message for who?"

"Smoke signals! Luke is alive! I have to go!"

"Just wait a minute, Take Michonne!" Michonne doesn't have her sword, it's still inside, and I'm not going far, there's no need.

I'm already dropping onto the container roof with a loud clang. "No! I'm fine! Stay here I'm not going far!"

"Fin!"

"I'm fine Rick! I'll be back in an hour!"

I don't wait for them, already half-way to the car climbing inside. Twisting the key and pulling out into the lot. Rick will probably chew my ass off when I get back, if Daryl doesn't kill me first; especially since he's still downstairs.

But if Luke is alive it will be completely worth it.

I make it into town without incident all my time previously clearing walkers out of this area has made a big difference; not that it matters for me…but it might for Luke.

I write my message using the white shoe polish on the store front windows, keeping to the code the entire way through my message—except the signature; that I sign with m full name scrawled across the second window pane in huge letters that drip white lines down the glass yellowing with the thick coating of pollen.

I drop the book bag against the brick under my message just in case. If it isn't Luke somehow; or if he's under some kind of duress my note instructs the reader to take the food, water and matches supplied and move north out of town—away from my home…if it Is Luke, our code and every third word tells him exactly where to find me.

I head back to the car, stomach a mass of jittery hopeful nerves I haven't felt in years before pulling a U-turn and heading back to the warehouse chewing my lip the whole drive.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: ** _Not mine!_

**Notes: ** Big thanks to the readers and reviewers!

And massive super big thanks to Angelinaa for beta and comments! You lady, are so awesome I'm secretly planning your kidnapping...shhhh don't tell anyone! Muhahaha!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"What the Hell you doing up here again?"

I don't look over my shoulder at him.

"It's Glenn's watch."

"Yeah, I know." It's the second day since the smoke signal. My chest feels tighter with each passing hour. I could barely eat this morning thinking about where he might be, if it's really him…not getting more than a few hours of sleep last night still all tangled up in knots after our stupid fight doesn't help much either.

Thinking about his words still stings. I'm running on fumes, between exhaustion and raw nerves I haven't much patience for his gruff tone.

"Look," His voice drops to almost a whisper. "Feels like your avoid'n me."

I turn at that.

Catch his guilty look for a split second before his eyes dive to his feet, arms crossing tight over his chest while his jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly; like he's chewing on his next words. Tasting them before he lets them out in the air. Judging by his pinched sour expression he finds whatever combination he's considering to be lacking. I consider smacking him in the back of the head while he just keep standing there,

Glenn has stepped off quite a ways obviously eager to stay out of this.

_All he has to do is say he's sorry, I mean Jesus, how hard is that?_

_I don't get to find out._

"Car!"

I whirl back around to face the lot. It's not a car. It's an olive green jeep pulling into view, the kind with a hard top and big block letters across the windscreen, letters I can make out clearly as it comes closer.

_Words I know. _

My heart leaps into my throat.

I shove away from the wall almost slamming into Daryl as I pass him. He leaps back, follows on my heels with a quick sprint but hesitates when I sprint towards the ladder leading to the lot instead of the one leading into the warehouse's interior floors.

I hear him as he makes his decision, starts shouting for Rick and the others behind me down the hole. I'm already over the roofline, hands grabbing the rails of the ladder, climbing down with quick jerking movements.

No need to be cautious; no one else could read that code.

I almost slip I'm in such a hurry, my feet echo through the empty shipping container under my boots like drum beats as I race to the second ladder, practically leap down its entire length to the pavement below jolting my calves with sharp pain when I land.

Then I'm running down the long side of the warehouse as fast as I can, arms swinging, feet pounding on the hard pavement with enough force to jar my legs, sting the soles of my feet through my boots with each slapping footfall. I barely register any of it rounding the corner.

I can see the jeep, parked in the wide empty lot half turned to make a getaway attempt if necessary. _It won't be._

He's climbing out of the driver's side. Looks up and sees me when I shout his name, face breaking into a stupid grin I have seen to many times not to have memorized. He runs the last few steps to greet me leaving the door open in his wake.

I don't stop; don't even try. I slam right into him, leaping up my arms wrapped around his shoulders the impact jars my teeth, sends the wind whooshing hard enough from my lungs that I can't get another breath in to replace it for a few spinning, dizzy seconds. Our collision sends him sprawling backwards almost into the hood of the jeep trying to keep his balance; arms wrapped around my back.

His laughter surrounds me like a warm blanket, rich and sweet he spins around like some stupid movie and I'd laugh if I had any air left in my lungs, instead I just wrap my arms tighter around his neck. If I'm choking him he doesn't complain just spins me faster whooping and laughing until we're both doing it like idiots. I finally draw in enough air around my laughter to speak, still can't believe it's true even as the words tumble out.

"You're alive! Oh my god, You're Alive!" I press my face to his shirt. Reel back as far as his arms will let me smacking him with the flat of my hand.

"Dear God! And you Stink!" I'm shrieking, still smacking him.

He laughs so hard I think he might fall over.

Instead he just spins me around again while I smack him repeatedly.

"Put me down Luke! You smell like road kill!" I twist and protest and it's like I never left; like it's Spring Break or the start of a long summer and we're about to go running through the woods with Eric and Joe. Spend all hours of the day and night hiking and camping and racing ATV's and diving off cliffs and shooting each other with paintballs until we're more purple and green then not...

"Never!"

"She's right, But seeing as your barely fitting to be classified above road kill in our current condition it's kind of appropriate."

I twist, I know that voice too. I get an eyeful of the passenger traveling with him.

"No way! Chris?!"

Luke sets my feet down finally. I'm so happy to see them both alive I actually hug him too. He wraps his arms around me a little too tight.

"Do I get to spin you around too?"

"Like Hell." I try to pull back, he finally lets me a few seconds later.

I practically skip back to Luke's side, he slings his arm over my shoulders. My nose wrinkles instantly.

"Ughn! It's like that summer on Arrow Mountain, your arm pits smell like death!" I mime gaging until he puts me in a headlock. Then I'm too busy punching him in the kidney.

"Hands off her!"

Luke freezes arm still around my neck. "Finny, Your friends look like they need introductions." He still doesn't let me out of the headlock, I can't see anything but the pavement and our boots.

_AssHat._

I jerk my left leg forward knocking his knee out from under him; twisting out of his arm as his balance falters but maintaining my grip on his wrist. He sits on the asphalt grinning up at me like he doesn't have an arrow and two rifles pointed at his head. "Nice."

"Relax Daryl." I don't bother with the others, they lower their weapons when he does; he was the most likely to shoot Luke anyway… still looks like he's considering it from the set of his jaw, the glare he levels at him.

"This is Luke Chance. My idiot cousin."

Daryl's jaw clenches tight again.

"Hey if I'm an idiot, what's that make Chris?"

"Gee thanks buddy."

"He your cousin too?" Daryl's eyes flick from Luke to Chris, expression tense.

"Whoa, don't lump me in with those rednecks!"

I snort. "Chris grew up with Luke, Eric and Joe, same school and all that."

"Chris Church, nice to meet you." Chris steps forward brushing past me, I'm very careful not to react under Daryl's watchful eye; he might still shoot someone.

Chris extends his hand to Daryl and the rest of the group. It hangs in the air for a moment longer then polite until Rick steps forward.

"Rick Grimes."

I glance down at Luke in time to see him quirk his brow at me in question.

I drop his hand suddenly not sure where to stand, by Luke or Daryl?

I settle for stepping away from both of them ignoring the way they both look at me before waving my hand to each member of both groups I name.

"Luke, Chris; this is Daryl, Glenn, Tyreese, Michonne and Maggie, everyone else is still inside." They must have been worried about their arrival to all come down to the lot.

No wonder Daryl is glaring at me.

Luke picks himself up off the pavement. Feints a move to grab me again. I glare at him; he's got to be doing it on purpose, got to see the way Daryl is watching him. What the hell is he thinking?

I duck under his arm easily stepping back towards Daryl and Rick. Daryl steps closer to me.

Luke ignores Daryl's posture completely, stepping closer; I can practically feel Daryl's teeth grinding behind me…at this rate one of them is going to get shot.

I kick out at Luke's leg almost sweeping him back to the ground.

"Maybe you should stay down there Smelly, I could go get a hose…"

"Be happy you didn't have to drive with him. He locked the damn windows closed a few miles back; Masochistic bastard."

"Where you guys coming from?" Rick isn't holding his weapon but he doesn't look the least bit relaxed between his straight backed posture and tense expression.

"North, and we're just passing through, we're not staying." Luke glances at me again. Daryl shifts behind me.

"How long are you staying?"

"Rick, it's okay. They're family."

"I'm touched!"

"Keep it up Chris and you'll sleep tied to a tree."

"Kinky."

I glare at him, he just grins back. After a moment I shake my head, turn to Luke. "Seriously, how have you not shot him yet?"

Luke shrugs. "He makes a mean deer chili."

Rick steps closer to me, keeping his eyes on Luke. "You willing to vouch for them?"

I don't hesitate, nod to Rick immediately holding his gaze. Daryl shifts crossing his arms when I speak; I can feel his eyes on me like a physical weight. "Yes. They act up I'll kick their asses myself."

Luke snorts grinning at me. "That'd be the day."

"Bring it Nerd."

"That's rich coming from a skinny ginger!"

"When was the last time I punched you in the face?"

"Not since grade school Finny." Luke smirks.

"Keep it up and that's going to change."

"I'll hold him down for you." Chris throws in.

When I turn back to move to the warehouse ladder Daryl walks closer to me then he has in days.

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer: **_Not mine. Sadness overwhelms me._

**Note: **Next Chapter! Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys rock! I hope you're still enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it!

Big thanks to Angelinaa for emotional support and being in my Daryl Dixon 12 step group...course we refuse to go to the meetings and watch re-runs instead cause we don't want the cure... Daryl addictions are dangerous. :P

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Wonder if they'd teach me to do that." Maggie is staring over the fire pit watching Seraphim, Luke and Chris while they duck, pull punches and kick at each other like complete hooligans.

Daryl keeps his eyes on his plate, doesn't need to look up to watch them, he's got the running commentary from Hell he can't escape right here.

"Like Hell." Glenn leans around his wife's shoulder glancing at the two tall blondes flipping each other over with some kind of crazy wrestling move. Seraphim diving out of the way laughing at them.

"What? I can't learn defense from someone who's pretty?" Maggie makes a face at Glenn.

"Careful how you answer that Brother; it's a trick question either way." Rick offers, his grin so wide you can hear it in his voice. They all burst out laughing around him.

He's finding it a little hard to see the humor though.

Michonne has no qualms about watching them from her seat next to Rick.

Beth too….though he gets the feeling Beth is watching them for a whole different reason.

"She's good. They're all good. Those aren't moves you pick up in a few weeks, or even a few months…They've been doing that shit since they were kids. Looks like Krav Maga or Jiu Jitsu…maybe both?"

Sounds like her survivalist uncle did more than teach her how to hunt and fish.

"Is that what you studied, you know with your sword?" Carl asks.

"Nope. Believe it or not I took fencing in college; just kind of picked the rest of it up as I went along."

"No way."

"Way."

"Makes sense to me." They all turn to look at Carol. "I mean about Fin, and you know the martial arts stuff. I mean look at her. What father in his right mind wouldn't teach her and every male member of her family how to fight?"

"She's right, we start teaching Judith how to fight the second she can walk." Maggie pipes in.

Rick is grinning. "No point, she's not allowed to date until she's thirty…..five."

Everyone chuckles alongside him.

"How long you think they're staying?" Glenn finally asks.

"Don't know. Question is if they take Fin with them when they go."

Everyone goes quiet. His chest tightens.

"She won't do that." Carl breaks in shaking his head. "No way."

"We don't know that Carl. Luke and Chris, they're family. And she hasn't been with us that long."

_Shit he left them for Merle…almost._

"Yeah well so are we. She won't just leave." Carl sounds so sure.

The words burn through him. _Luke is family._ Looks good for her even; much as it eats at his insides, claws at his chest to admit it—he's never seen her smile so much, laugh and look so relaxed.

The memory of their fight burns through his stomach like acid, sits like a lead weight on his chest.

_Hell was he thinking saying those things to her? He wasn't—too damn blinded by jealousy. _

_Thinking about her with someone else—anyone else…it's like napalm in his chest. Damn girl had a life before all this; before him; and a damn good one. She was a fucking Doctor for Christ Sake; he was a nobody. _

_Never did shit with his life before this…just a waste of space, redneck white trash._

_She deserves so much better. _

He had no idea what the Hell she's doing with him. The more time he's had to think about it lately the less sense it makes to him.

His insecurities had already been rearing their ugly head for days before she'd jumped ship; taken off on him without so much as a warning. Rick telling him she drove off after someone named Luke.

She was back before he could even start looking for her, but he couldn't get it out of his mind…the thought of her meeting someone else. Driving off on a whim, leaving him for some other guy…that he was the reason behind the flush in her cheeks the wild excited look in those wide green eyes.

When he'd lashed out at her that night, it was the only thing he could think about. Some other guys hands on her...touching her…someone she wanted touching her; someone other than him.

Fury still claws through him with the thought; even if he knows now just how wrong that assumption was…it still sends heat searing through his insides, followed by a heavy wash of guilt a moment later.

He'd reacted out of fear and doubt and she'd let him hang himself with his own stupidity.

Leaving with Luke and Chris gives her a Hell of a lot more options than anything he has to offer.

_Why the Hell wouldn't she want a part of that old life back?_

The shock and hurt on her face from the other day, even though it was just that brief second before she schooled her features back to calm wracks him with guilt. Rolls through his chest making it hard to breath.

_She just turned around and walked away from him._

_Not that he blames her; after what he said to her…what he called her. _

_Fuck. She slept upstairs that night; and the night after; stayed away from him for the first time ever…_

_He never knew a bed could feel so empty. Shit._

_Years alone. Years without dipping his wick; complicating his life and now one damn girl and he's a complete fucking wreck. He's torn in a never ending battle between with is dick and his head. _

_Damn girl makes it as difficult as possible too. _

_Most of the time he's not sure if he should rip off all her clothes and fuck her senseless or maybe just arm wrestle her into submission._

_No wonder Merle was half out of his damn mind all the time, all the women in his life that came and went that he screwed around with no matter what his damn reasoning...Shit. Just what he's been through with her in the last few weeks is enough to drive any man to drink…He wouldn't mind crawling into a bottle of something stiff and mind-numbing right now. _

_Just to escape it all, for a few hours._

_One girl, just one; and he's a hot damn mess. _

He itches to get up and leave, doesn't want to make it obvious though. He's enough shit to deal with, without everyone knowing their damn business; as if they don't already with her sleeping upstairs away from him.

He's not even listening to the damn conversation anyways, just picking at his plate. Too busy trying not to growl every time that fucking pretty boy Chris touches Seraphim…his hands linger a Hell of a lot longer on her skin then Luke's…

There's the heavy sound of someone hitting the ply board floor off to his right; it vibrates the ground under him with the force of the landing.

"Holy shit!" "Awesome!"

Daryl looks up at that.

Not at Glenn or Carl though, he's no doubt what their outbursts are over. It's all they've been talking about for the last thirty minutes.

Luke is on the ground flat on his back and Fin is laughing sitting on top of him. Chris is shaking his head standing a few feet away.

_She can get off his fucking chest now._

Cousin or not something inside him flares white hot.

He turns his head back to glare down at his plate, teeth grinding.

Maggie is laughing and so is Michonne both of their eyes wide.

Maggie holds her hands up to her face yelling over to them. "Do that Again!" She's thumping Carol's arm next to her excitedly pointing and grinning like a fool. "Watch this, seriously!"

Fin gets up finally; backing away from Luke who looks nervous. He's rubbing at the back of his neck as he gets up off the ground; waves his hands away, shaking his head, all the while pointing his thumb at Chris.

Chris immediately starts shaking his head adamantly in a gesture of 'no' pointing back at Luke.

There seems to be a conversation happening between the three of them they can't hear from this distance.

"Don't think he wants to get flipped again…" Rick sounds amused.

Everyone's having a fucking party. Daryl has the sinking feeling he's going to like this a lot less than everyone else seemed too judging by the way the end looked.

"What did she do?" Carol asks from the bench behind him, she obviously missed it as well.

"She flipped Luke using her legs around his freaking head!" Maggie sounds like she still doesn't believe it.

_Definitely not going to like this._

"Okay, it's official you're definitely not learning how to do that." Glenn points at his wife who starts snickering.

"Should she be doing that with her shoulder?" Carol sounds concerned at least.

"Probably not, but anyone that stops her is probably going to get a punch to the throat." Rick is grinning, "I'm not going to volunteer for that job…Daryl?"

His eyes narrow for a brief moment on Rick's face, then he looks away chewing his nail.

_Maybe everyone doesn't know they've been fighting._

"Hell naw, let 'em have their fun."

_It's none of his damn business after all; she made that clear the other day._

"Well, I seriously want to learn to do that!" Maggie is still grinning like a fool ignoring Glenn shaking his head with theatrical exaggeration while Rick and Michonne laugh at them.

"Oh! Here she goes!"

He glances up to watch Fin sprint the short distance towards Chris this time. She leaps up in the air sliding onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck, legs hanging over his back...

She balances there for a split second mimes punching Chris in the face before bending so far over backwards it looks like she's doing a back bend off his neck keeping her legs locked around Chris's head—He loses his balance, kicks his legs jumping into the fall rolling them almost gracefully despite his position. Fin keeps doing her odd backbend as he falls, sliding through his legs and flipping them both ass over tea kettle, leaving Chris ultimately flat on his back pinned and her on top.

She mimes punching Chris in the head once he's on the ground beneath her supposedly subdued…she's practically sitting on his face…

"Yeah, that is not a girl I'd want to piss off…"

He jerks up from the ground with a snarl. Can't take this anymore, it's either leave or shoot someone. So he leaves.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes: **Short chapter! Apologies! :) Happy Sunday!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Daryl!" She pads after him down the hallway.

"Not now. Just leave me be."

"No, I won't. Not until you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Aint nuthin going on with me, maybe you should go check with the damn new kids."

Carol frowns at him. Her hard stare makes his feet itch to pace. She leans against the desk, hands tucked under her watching him move around the hallway like a caged animal.

"You fight about Luke?"

"Man, I dunno." He sweeps his arm in a broad gesture. "Shits all messed up. Hell am I even talking to you for?"

Her lips quirk north, voice amused. "Cause you suck at this." He glares at her, she continues undeterred. "And you need my advice."

_Shit._ He stops pacing to glare at her full on, irritated and a little relieved when she just stares back at him. "Don't remember ask'n for no damn help."

"You don't have to; that's what friends do. Besides, who else you gonna ask? Rick?" She smirks. "That's the blind leading the blind right there."

He starts pacing again, stops suddenly almost throwing himself back against the wall crossing his arms tightly over his chest to stop himself from fidgeting.

The thought of telling Rick the shit he said makes him cringe just as much as the memory of saying it. He takes a few moments to stares down his shoes. She waits.

"I was an asshole."

"You were a jealous asshole." She corrects him with a knowing look.

He grunts in response, jaw clenching repeatedly.

"Daryl you need to say you're sorry. And then maybe just let her punch you a few times."

His lips twitch at that he raises his hand to rub his fingers over his tired eyes. "Yeah, Okay. Now go mind your own damn business."

"Alright, But don't wait too long to do something Daryl. That only makes it worse."

He watches her walk away before heading down the hallway to their empty bed kicking out of his boots and laying down.

As tired as he is; he lays there for hours in the darkness the guilt still clawing at his insides; twisting against his ribs…sleep is a long time coming.

**:: Walking Dead ::**

She's not exactly avoiding him.

He might find that less infuriating.

She's always right there. Same room, too many people.

He hangs back, chewing at a hangnail again…keeps this Shit up much longer and his hands are going to be a raw bloody mess.

Every time he wants to approach her Luke is right there. It's seriously pissing him off.

What are they attached at the fucking hip? _Jesus._

She keeps looking at him, but she's not saying anything either.

_Could this be any more difficult?_

She's reading when he finds her again, seated on the floor book in hand. She doesn't even glance up when he approaches, eyes locked on the page in front of her. Luke stands up when he sees him moves to stand in front of her.

"Hey, Wanna Spar?" Luke is kicking at the bottom of her shoe with his, jolting her leg.

Daryl practically growls at the question.

_What part of she's still recovering; supposed to be taking it easy and not being thrown around like a fucking rag doll don't they get?_

She looks up at Luke, completely ignoring his scowl from a few feet away. Sets her book down against the floor without so much as glancing at him. "Hell yes."

She's trying to punish him. That must be it.

He waits pacing the floor of the library until he can see them walking together on the concrete floor of the warehouse. Luke is setting something on a pile of boxes, pauses pulling off his jacket; leaving just a tank top on over his jeans. He rolls his shoulders, squaring off with her; holds out his hand for her to take. His insides twist as he watches Luke yank her forward.

Somebody up there is punishing him even if she isn't.

His insides writhe, twist and churn burning with sour acid.

But he can't stop watching.

Watching her sends a confusing kaleidoscope of emotions through him he has no idea how to process enough to separate, let alone handle. Fascinated and awed and jealous and so fucking turned on he'll embarrass himself if anyone comes in here; and all at the same fucking time because he's seriously fucked up when it comes to her.

_Shit_.

When they both tumble down to the concrete, lay there almost shoulder to shoulder obviously trying to recover from their play fight he wants to scream.

Part of him is screaming. Snarling and slashing and clawing at his insides watching her touch him; even if it doesn't mean what it looks like it does…

Luke is her cousin, but he's more like a big brother.

But the other guy's not.

Fucking Chris.

His teeth grind and his jaw clenches. Something about the guy sets him on edge, makes him want to punch him in the face…especially when he's in the same room as Seraphim.

Doubly so if they're doing something as infuriating as sparing, there's a cruel glint in Chris's eyes when he looks at her that Daryl recognizes; he's seen it before. It sends anger curling through his chest, twisting in his gut.

It's calculating, and predatory.

His arms cross tighter over his chest, trying to keep his breathing controlled and even.

He swears she looks up at him. Not that he could tell from this distance…but it feels like she's watching him suddenly. He shifts subconsciously.

She probably doesn't want him around like this; he's intruding on her time with Luke: her real family.

He turns and leaves.

He couldn't stand watching any more anyway.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own the WD, but I do own both these characters! xD

**Notes:** Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys are awesome! Can't believe this has got almost 200 reviews. That blows my mind!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-Nine**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

Luke plops down next to me, leans back against the couch front legs stretched out on the ply board floor next to mine.

"Hey."

"Hey." I glance up from my book.

"So… they have a baby."

"Yeah."

Luke stares at me. "You know?"

"Yes."

He nods. "Do they?"

We both stare at our boots. "No." I lean my head back against the cushion. "They have no idea."

We don't speak, there's a lump in my throat. "Eric, Joe…" I already know the answer from the look on his face…his silence.

"Dead."

I lift my head, stare down at my hands my book loose and forgotten on my lap. Just as well. I've read the same paragraph for an hour now—couldn't tell you anything about it.

"You're Mom..."

"She's gone. They're all gone." I can't bring myself to say the word. Dead. I wipe at my eyes. We stare at the floor.

I try not to see the church in my head, smell the iron tang that haunts my nightmares.

I exhale in a rush; feels like I haven't been able to do that in years.

Luke shifts at my side. "Finny; that scar…" Luke's fingers slide down my shoulder, voice quiet. I swallow.

"When did it happen?"

"Atlanta, long time ago…I was trying to save someone…just got in the way."

We stare at each other while the silence stretches on around us in the darkness.

"Me too."

All the air rushes out of my lungs; I suspected but… "Luke….You….your…." I don't even know what to call it. He nods.

"I was trying to save Eric, we'd been okay for weeks…all of us…and then." He shakes his head. "They were everywhere…and…I thought about killing myself after…I just…I couldn't do it Fin…I…" He stares down at his lap, presses his fingers over his eyes.

I swipe my hand at my running nose, my wet cheeks. We should be screaming in agony; but there's no sound.

We're barely whispering. I've never spoken of this before; it feels dangerous, makes my heart race, my palms sweat. I wipe them on my pant legs repeatedly, slowly while Luke says nothing, stares at the wall somewhere far, far away from where we sit now.

It is dangerous, admitting whatever we are…I know it all too well.

"I kept waiting to die; I knew it was only a matter of time…but it just never happened."

"And Chris?"

"Yeah, Chris too."

"Are there others? What is it?" Now that we're talking about it, it's difficult to stop.

Luke shrugs, staring at the wall still.

"A few; it's rare—except for the infants. Somehow…they think it's antibodies during the pregnancy; exposure in utero is what they keep talking about, guess you might know something about that."

It was my theory.

"Somehow, the babies; at least all the ones I've seen survive; they're immune. They're experimenting with it now."

I cringe, bile rising up. Luke's eyes are tight, the crease between his brows deepening, his lips pursed.

I am even more positive that I don't want to know from his guarded expression.

I shake my head try to push that thought away. "And us?"

Luke sighs. "They don't know."

I pull my legs up, book sliding off my lap to the floor pages fluttering. I press my face against one knee. My voice shakes. "You're not staying."

He shakes his head. "We're trying to get the equipment they need. People like Chris and me; people like us…they used to send out the military; what's left of it. But most of them never made it back. They needed them to protect the walls, the tunnels."

"Where are you?"

"Used to be called Winchester, some people still call it that…the Government; what was left of it after The Turn…the military, government services; it's all there, enough to function at least. They barricaded the whole damn valley hundreds of miles of it…between the walls and the mountains and the tunnels under the mountain to get in…it's safe, you should come with us."

I stare at him. "What about everyone else Luke?"

His silence is telling. "They only let certain people in; limited resources and all that."

"Right."

"Doctors, scientists…"

"The rich?" I glare at him.

Luke scowls, a bad taste in his mouth, the same one filling mine.

"Yeah. There's a lot of that too. But they take in the immune; no questions asked."

_Of course they do. Bet they throw a damn party every time one of us rolls up to the gate. So they can use us; like they're using Luke and Chris. I wonder how many of them are being experimented on; the ones that show up; that aren't useful for other things…_

I turn away, shake my head. "Fuck that. These are good people."

Good people deserve to be saved more than bank accounts and donors.

_Money. Power. _

Luke opens his mouth, closes it when we both hear footsteps on the ladder. I pick up my book swipe at my cheeks quickly, stretching my legs back out in front of us.

Daryl turns, sees us both and stops. His face flickering with a wash of several different emotions I don't try to name. Looking at him hurts. I stare down at the book in my lap; try that paragraph again while he walks closer.

Luke says nothing. Neither does Daryl.

The silence presses against my ears thick as water, presses cripplingly against my skin.

Luke gets to his feet, I don't look up. Part of me is waiting; holding my breath. Tension knotted between my shoulder blades waiting for them to finally come to blows.

I can feel Daryl's stare on the top of my head.

"Hey, wanna spar?" Luke kicks the sole of my boot with his toe.

"Hell Yes." I climb to my feet in serious need of a distraction. I can't be sparring with Luke and not focus—not without getting a split lip.

"Downstairs?"

"Yeah," we move together headed toward the ladder.

I can practically feel Daryl's eyes on the back of my neck as we leave. Do my best to ignore it so I don't flush. I'm not giving him that satisfaction. Not after the other day. He doesn't get to dictate what I do.

Especially not with Luke.

"All the way down?" Luke is ahead of me.

"Yeah, let's go out the gate between the rows, more room there." We tend to travel a bit when we spar, all the different holds and throws and movements from the combined martial arts we learned over the years is hard to keep still. We used to brawl all over the yard in a single match.

Luke nods keeps climbing down. I take the lead when we reach the darkened 'basement' level as Carl calls it, it kind of stuck with everyone else. I unlatch the gate leading to the rest of the warehouse, Luke follows on my heels but leaves it open behind us; no real reason to shut it.

He pulls something out of his jacket pocket as we walk to a larger space between the main rows; sets it up on the boxes of lamps piled on our right. I laugh recognizing the shape, hit with sudden nostalgia.

"How in the world did you manage to keep that thing all this time?"

He pulls his jacket off tossing it over the boxes next to the IPod and it's set of tiny speakers as the music starts. He's grinning when he spins to face me, it's infectious.

"You know I can't live without music."

The song is instantly familiar, the beat makes me want to tap my toes, do something ridiculous like dance.

"Shall we?" Luke holds his hand out like we might do just that, my grin widens as I take his hand.

I almost laugh when he uses the grip to yank me closer jerking me against his chest twisting to wrap his arm around my neck. I twist myself dropping and rolling almost taking his legs out with a sweep of my own. He keeps hold of my hand though trying to yank me back up. Throw my balance off, so I step into the motion bring my elbow up to brush his jaw when he ducks away at the last second both of us still grinning, breathing faster now.

I finally get my hand loose and we circle each other occasionally diving at one another, pulling our blows back at the last moment so our fists and elbows and kicks strike hard enough to sting, maybe bruise but not enough to really injure one another.

After a few minutes my muscles start to burn, my pulse is hammering in my ears, adrenaline races along my veins flushing my cheeks bright pink.

We square off for 4 songs by then both so out of breath that when I try to flip to grab Luke's waist in a scissor kick we both tumble down laughing hysterically—wheezing and coughing.

My limbs are all shaking, sweat drips down my temples my shirt clings to the small of my back, but the cold concrete feels fantastic under my bare shoulder blades—my own sleeved tee long discarded next to Luke's abandoned jacket. I pull my legs up knees bent kicking Luke in the ribs just hard enough that he lets out a huffing grunt, his arm twitching out to smack me in the shoulder just right.

The blow makes my whole right arm go numb. _Bastard._

I grin shaking and flexing my fingers in the air over head, my strength is slow coming back; but I've got almost full mobility again now.

"Feel better?" He hasn't quite caught his breath yet either.

"Much."

"Can't believe how out of shape I am."

"You?" He just kicked my ass.

"Not much art behind killing the reanimated."

We both stare up at the steel rafters overhead.

"Especially when they just stand there and let you kill them?"

Luke turns his head stares at me for a long minute. I stare back still breathing too hard; but the stabbing hitch under my ribs has faded at least.

"Yeah..." He stares up at the ceiling again. "Yeah," His tone is hard to place. I keep my head turned towards him but I'm looking past him now, over his head.

The rock in my stomach swells again. Squeezes my lungs.

Daryl is standing near the railing staring down at us, arms crossed over his chest. I can't make out his facial features from this distance but I can suddenly feel the weight of his stare boring into me. I swallow. I know he can't hear us, but my heart still races.

I twist away, sit up clearing my throat. The song changes behind us.

"Come on, let's do Katas."

He grumbles but gets up obediently. I keep my eyes locked straight ahead for the next three songs as we slide through each motion, change to holds and releases then disarming techniques again—when I slip up Luke flips me flat out I catch a glance of the railing over his shoulder briefly before he pulls me back to my feet telling me to pay better attention.

_Daryl is gone._

The rock in my stomach becomes a boulder, pressing against all my insides weighing me down.

It should be easier to concentrate without his glare boring into the back of my neck.

I should be faster, less hindered without his presence distracting me, pulling my focus…

But tell that to my split lip.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, all original characters are the property of the TWD and AMC

**Notes: **Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers; you guys make me feel amazing! Makes hours in front of the computer fly by because I can't wait to get the next bit out!

* * *

**Chapter Sixty**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"You look like Hell."

I'd grin, but it pulls my lip too much. I'm a little sick of spitting the copper taste out of my mouth after the last half hour.

"Aww You know just how to make a girl feel special."

Luke snorts hands me one of the homemade chemical icepacks he's carrying. I take it from him press it to my split lip with a soft hiss.

"Damn that's cold."

"Yes, that's what I did 8 years of school for: ice packs. Keep it on there; or your face is going to swell up like a pumpkin. Don't want that Daryl guy kicking my ass…"

_Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem seeing as he's not said two words to me in as many days now. He won't even look at me._

"Don't think I've hit you in years…You sure you're okay?"

I nod waving him off with my free hand. "Yeah, just stings like a bitch."

"You're not kidding." Luke flops down next to me on the sofa with a grunt, crooks his elbow to press his own zip-lock bag to his face. I notice the dried blood on his forearm and scuffed elbow with some satisfaction.

At least we both look like Hell.

"I think you're elbows got longer." He comments casually after a few moments.

"No, you just got sloppier."

"They got bonier I know that much." I dig my bony elbow into his bruised ribs. He grunts in protest shifts against the couch pulling me into his side.

"I miss this." He sounds so sad, has to be thinking of his brothers…his father…my chest tightens.

"I know, me too." I pull the ice away from my lip switching hands since my fingers are going numb, press it briefly to what feels like a lump on the side of my head.

"Put that back on there…You could come with us; you _should_ come with us. You belong with us, not norms."

I stare up at the ply board flooring overhead, snort softly.

_Norms. _

_I don't know what normal is anymore; but I don't think anyone can really be classified with the term nowadays. _

Luke is staring at me, waiting I realize. My stomach knots.

"And leave all this?" I wave a vague hand.

"What?"

I stare at him while his face clouds over. _I know that look._ _Eric did it better once upon a time;_ _but Luke's no slouch at it either. Learn from the best and all that._

"No, Seriously. What is this really? I mean, these people seem nice; but how long is that going to last? What happens when this goes south? And you know it will. What happens when strangers roll through here, or a mob moves through? How long until something happens and then it's what? You alone with a baby? Or they figure out what you are; sell you to the highest bidder; if they don't just put a bullet in your brain first. Hell you got stabbed by one of them already Finny! And shot! You're supposed to be smart!" He finishes with a hiss.

"I can protect them."

_From Walkers at least._

"And who protects you huh? Cause from where I stand they're doing a piss pour job of it; and what's the big deal with saving the world? That's not your job. Come with us, you don't owe them anything." Luke's blue eyes narrow down at me.

"You wouldn't understand." And I don't know how to make him.

Hell, I don't understand it myself. It doesn't make sense; especially right now. It's all one giant excruciating mess.

"Oh really? I understand a lot of things Finny; so why don't you spell it out for me, and if it makes sense; rational, logical sense then alright. But it doesn't; does it?" Luke keeps staring at me.

I glare at him ice pack clenched in my fist almost forgotten despite the numbing cold, too busy grasping at straws with my brain for a reason that doesn't involve _him_; one that Luke can accept; one that I can live with if I can't fix this mess with Daryl…

"They have a baby. I don't need to tell you what that means if something happens to all of them."

"Is this really about the baby Finny, or is it about Mr. tall dark and brooding?"

"Shut up." I press the cold pack to my lip again even though it's already burning with cold and mostly numb. Turn my head away to stare at the wall.

"I was serious before Finny: Come to Winchester. People like us; we belong in Winchester; forget them. Hell, you're the only girl I know of; you might be what they need!" He finishes in a quiet hiss.

Just the thought makes my chest contract, my next exhale hurts. I shake my head while the wall blurs; I blink it back into focus furiously. I will not shed tears in front of Luke, or anyone else.

"You could stay." We don't speak for a few minutes.

I recognize a stalemate when I see one. My heart sinks.

"I could come back after this trip; but I have to finish this; and I don't know how long it will take."

I nod once. Part of me wants to go—even if it means I'll have to deal with Chris; not one of my favorite people left in the world. I'd have Luke back though; _family. Real Family_…Family that Knows…I wouldn't have to hide anymore…

But the knots twisting my insides disagree. Thinking about leaving Carl, and Mika and Daryl…

My eyes burn and the pain centered in my chest is a rabid inundation of overwhelming clarity when compared to the twinge the thought of Luke leaving without me brings.

Luke wants a rational, logical answer; but when has the human heart ever been either?

_It's obvious where my heart is. _

_Even if it's alone._

I close my eyes tuck my chin and lean my temple against Luke's shoulder with a heavy sigh.

"That bad huh?"

I nod once. Luke makes a harrumphing sound in reply shaking his head.

"I could go kick his ass you know."

I snort, it hurts.

"What is it about this guy? I mean I never pegged you in a million years for the pissy bad-boy type."

I frown at that.

"He's not pissy." I stop lift my head from Luke's shoulder at his scoff, my lips pursed into a firm line. "Yeah okay, well he isn't always pissy…He can be…really sweet."

Luke frowns at me. I force myself to not look away.

"I think you deserve better."

I scowl at him. "It's none of your damn business, you don't even know him."

"I know Chris has been trying to get your attention for the last 6 years now; and you never even offered him the time of day! What the hell did this guy do that has you so wrapped up that he can treat you like shit and you don't even see it?"

The ice pack drops completely forgotten to my lap. I lean back crossing my arms over my chest. "We had a fight; it happens, we'll get over it."

_I think._

_I hope..._

My chest aches.

"And I don't like Chris…like that."

"You might if you gave him half a chance."

I glare at Luke seething. "Fabulous!" I stand up pace away with quick agitated steps before turning back to glare down at him waving my hand. "This just never gets old, I'm not twelve years old God Damnit. You don't get to tell me what to do, or where to go, and you most certainly do not get to tell me who to date!"

"Oh so you're dating the guy? How's that work exactly? Does he even speak in full sentences? Has he ever said he wants to be with you, that he loves you? You don't know the first God Damn thing about this guy! I hope your being careful at least!"

I sputter in complete shock, cheeks flushing in mortification. "Fuck you! What I'm doing isn't any of your damn business!"

"Oh, that's brilliant Finny! What the fuck are you thinking? That settles it, you're leaving with us when we go, because it's obvious to me you've got no idea what's actually going on here!"

"Oh and you do? News Flash Luke: You have a PhD in Chemistry that doesn't make you Doctor Love, Dumbass!"

We're both standing now, and yelling.

"I know a Hell of a lot more then you do, I'm a guy."

I snort, "A Dick doesn't give you the right to dictate my life! You can shove your misogynistic…"

"When was the last time you dated Finny? Oh wait, that's right you don't. Chris asked you out how many times?"

"I told you: I Don't Like Chris!"

"Fine, you don't like Chris! But you also don't know the first damn thing about men; you're fucking clueless! Worse than that, you're gullible as shit! This isn't some romance novel! What exactly do you think is going on here? You spend a few weeks with a guy and suddenly your all but married to him? He's not even speaking to you! That's pathetic Finny! What are you gonna do just follow him around like some pathetic looser until he gets you killed?"

_Ouch._

My breath huffs out. It's not a sob…not exactly. I try to swallow around the swelling pain working its way up from my chest, it makes a croaking noise when it sticks in my throat.

"Screw you!" I turn to leave. Luke grabs my wrist. I jerk away but he keeps his hold, wrenching me back to face him, I cry out in surprise.

Luke snarls his next words, face inches from mine.

"Just because somebody _Fucks_ you doesn't mean they give a _Shit_ about you."

"Let go of me before I turn that black eye into a matching set." My threat is a low hiss.

Luke leans back from me a little, hand still wrapped tight as iron around my wrist.

"I'm serious Fin. He doesn't give a God Damn about anything but a piece of ass, that's what you are to him; that's all you'll ever be… You're smarter than this; get your head out of your ass."

My other hand clenches into a fist. "I'm Serious Luke. Let Go."

"You best do as she says before we have a bigger problem."

My stomach drops like a rock.

Luke lets go, his hand drops limp to his side. He keeps his glare on me, ignoring Daryl completely.

"Think it over Finny. You know I'm right." He grabs the dropped ice pack from the sofa and leaves with quick and quiet footsteps never even acknowledging Daryl's shadow by the other ladder.

I keep staring at the wall as he climbs up; heading to bed I suppose—I don't really give a shit at this exact moment.

I'm too raw, empty and aching.

The hollow bubble in my chest expands more with each passing second of his continued silence; grows tighter and tighter pressing against the air in my lungs, crushing my heart 'til I feel like I'm going to implode.

It bursts when he finally speaks, shredding my insides to white hot ribbons of pain and humiliation. But I am strong.

"He's right."

The only outward sign in the darkness that I'm collapsing, bleeding to death on the inside is the slight shake in my knees, the tremble of my hands pressed against my pant legs. The single tear that slides down one cheek, hangs on the rim of my chin, tickling my skin…I don't brush it away though; if I do it will make it obvious to him that I'm crying.

I won't give him the satisfaction.

"You do deserve better."

A sharp bark of bitter laughter claws its way unbidden up my throat.

I shake my head staring up at the ceiling feel the tear drop fall from my skin; it lands on my collar with a silent splash. I tip my chin up to keep more from spilling over, keep staring at the blank ceiling for a few moments.

I can't speak around the lump in my throat until I've swallowed what feels like a hundred times. I pull my expression together with the last of my composure throw my arms out in a quick dismissing gesture. Spinning on my heels and backing towards the ladder, away from his still unmoving shadow in the dark.

"Well, I guess that's the least of my worries if all I am is a quick easy fuck."

I can't tell if he's looking at me, can't make out his face or any features in the darkness. _Thank God. _

_Imagining this cruelty is hard enough, thinking about the sneer on his face the other day…seeing it now after this would be too much. _

_I might as well go pack a fucking bag. _

I spin back around retreating he says nothing as I cross the distance to the ladder start to climb. I wait until I'm on the next floor to swipe at my cheeks with clenched fists; smearing the wetness gathered on them with furious jerks.

I keep climbing; ignore Carol and Sasha sitting around the fire pit when I reach the top level at last. I keep my head down pretend I don't notice their glances.

Voice's carry; it's easy to forget that in the middle of an argument. Remembering it now I feel like every word Luke said is plastered over my head in neon lights.

I keep walking head straight for my shed, desperate to get away from everyone before the heat behind my eyes turns into waterworks and my breath becomes an uncontrollable hitch.

I open the shed door and slam it closed behind me leaning my back against it's cool plastic surface. Standing here in the dark again the throbbing of my lip returns to me, I slide my tongue over it tasting copper. _Brilliant._

I let my face drop into my hands for a moment, press my palms so tightly over my eyes I see flashes of red against the darkness. I continue to stand there for a moment listening to the world outside my door, no one approaches thank god. At least there's that small courtesy.

I shove away from the door and lay face down on my bed in the pitch black, grab the nearest pillow by feel and press my face to the soft fabric; uncaring if I smear the material with blood, all I can think about is trying to muffle the sobs.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer**: They belong to TWD and AMC, except for the OC's here, Fin, Luke and Chris are my creations.

**Notes**: I wasn't going to post this, until Wednesday's update; but I'm so freaked out by tonight's episode (HOLY HARPY) I need something to help me calm down! And I thought maybe you guys might too!

It's one thing to deal with cannibals after the group when you're the one writing the story and you know they're safe….it's completely different to have AMC in charge of what's for dinner… O_o

In other words going to start searching my laptop, and office for listening and bug devices.

Shout outs to all the readers, reviewers and Angelinaa for beta/awesome and helping me plot to kidnap Norman Reedus for our own giddy fun. Too bad she's outside the jurisdiction of the FBI and I might have them knocking on my door soon! hahaha.

I promise to be nice to him…. : D

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-One**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Daryl," She says his name all soft and breathy.

But it's like nails on a chalkboard:

_Wrong Voice _

_Wrong Girl_

"What Beth?" He doesn't look up from his hands. He doesn't want to see those big blue eyes; always with that hopeful look… _Hell can't she just leave him alone lately?_

"I heard Fin, talking to Luke…"

His jaw clenches in agitation, fist closing over the auburn braided lock in his palm.

_Big surprise. _

_Fin talks to Luke a lot. _

_Fin smiles at Luke a lot. _

_Laughs and touches Luke…_

"Yeah, and?"

"It's just…sounds like Fin is going with them when they leave…I thought you know, that might help to know that…make it easier; you know…you won't have to deal with her anymore."

_Fuck. _His hands freeze, nearly drops the small braid in his hand onto the floor, it catches on the calloused pads of his fingers.

_Well Hell. Of course she's gonna go with them…What the hell did he expect? Luke is Family. Chris grew up with her; obviously likes her….his insides twist and burn thinking about how his hug lingered in the lot; the way he stared at her grinning…_

"Hell do I care?" He snarls_. But he does care. He wishes to God he didn't._

"I'm sorry," She moves closer to him. He glances up at her wary.

She doesn't look sorry. He's not sure exactly what expression that is; but it sure as Hell aint _Sorry_.

"Yeah Whatever." His whole body tenses when she sits down next to him. Close enough that the edge of her thigh presses to his. He keeps his eyes firmly locked on his hands.

"I just thought you'd like to know, you know before they leave…maybe you could get even with her."

His head jerks up. "Hell you talking 'bout get _Even_?"

Why the fuck is she sitting so close? Leaning even closer…

He pulls back frowning hard.

"Beth what the Hell are you doin?"

"Well, it's obvious there's something going on with Chris and Fin…"

Something inside him snaps.

"Where the Hell did you hear that?!" He glares down at her….doesn't even remember standing up.

"Isn't it obvious Daryl? I mean come on, everyone knows she hurt you…I can see it." Her fingers wrap around his forearm when she stands up.

He steps back, glares down at her. "I don't know what the Hell you think this is Beth." He snarls. "But I'm not interested."

"Why not? I mean, she's just going to leave with them right? But I'm not. I'm here; I've been here; and you don't even see me."

Damn right he doesn't. Beth is like a naïve kid sister.

"Did she say when they were leaving?"

Beth stomps her foot, huffing. "I don't know, but she didn't say anything when she left before either."

No she didn't.

The fact still claws at him. She was back before he even had a chance to go look for her; would have followed her to that damn roof-stopped her if they hadn't just been fooling around in the God Damn target practice room before Carl came down the ladder.

He wasn't exactly in any shape to climb to the roof in front of everyone; not with a raging boner from her tight little ass pressed up against him.

He'd made it to the roof only to find she'd just left, nearly punched Rick's lights out for letting her go. He'd gone to get his truck keys arguing with Rick the whole time about going after her when she said she'd be back in an hour…they'd just made it to the truck cussing and swearing at each other when she'd come back.

No idea the Hell she'd just put him through…

Cheeks all flushed, eyes bright, grinning 'til he'd snarled at her to get her fucking ass inside.

He barely kept his shit together long enough for them to get downstairs, where they could at least pretend they had privacy.

While everyone else had scattered like frightened rabbits. He'd demanded to know what the Hell she thought she was doing, going out there alone like that; without him or Rick or Michonne even…

He spins away from Beth and whatever fucking game she's trying to play. He doesn't have time for this shit right now. He stalks back up the hallway toward the ladder, intent on finder her.

Their fight swirling through his head; replaying the same nasty hurtful words he's been torturing himself over for two and a half days now…

"It's just town Daryl! It's ten minutes away!"

"People Die in less time!" _Why didn't she get that?_

"I'm fine! I don't need a damn body guard!"

"You don't go out there alone!"

"You don't get to tell me what to do!"

"Somebody needs to if you're going to keep pulling stupid shit like that!"

"I was fine before you came along…"

"Oh really? What about Caleb? Huh? And Robert? Other people like that Damn Governor!? You just forget about them?!"

"Let go of me Daryl." His hands snapped back to his sides, away from her. They glared at each other for a long time.

"Who the Hell is Luke?" Rick said she mentioned him before she lit out like a bat outta Hell. His hands clenched at his sides, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

She stared up at him finally opening her mouth to speak, but he cut her off…too angry to really hear what she might have to say.

"You never mentioned him before and now you go running off chasing smoke signals, for what?" Something ugly twisted in his gut; squeezing his chest.

"I think I deserve to know who else you've been fucking before they come knocking on our door!"

Her mouth dropped open while she sputtered at that, then she shoved him back so hard he stumbled.

"You Asshole!"

"Oh, I'm the asshole? What's that make you throwing your damn cat around?"

Her eyes flashed at him furious violent green, voice going quiet. "Fuck you, you don't know anything."

That stung far more than it should. Slamming home on every insecurity he fucking has. Twists the knife further in his chest so he snarls his next reply, spit the words out at her, wanting to hurt her...

"I know enough. Shoulda known you was just like all them other girls; aint nothing but a damn slut, lying bitch. "

She faltered back a step at that. Face crumpled for a split second before going completely blank. Just long enough to tear him wide open, clawing at his heart every time he thinks about it now.

"You're an idiot. Come find me when you figure out how to get your head out of your ass."

He had to use the rag from his back pocket to wrap around his knuckles; soak up the blood trying to drip down his fingers from his split skin after she walked away. Just left the smears of blood on the back wall of the hallway marking his fist's impact on the solid concrete wall.

The damn things still ache, especially clenched into a tight white knuckled fist as they are now. He might have cracked one or two of the bones in his hand…He should probably let Carol take a look at them since there's no way Fin will…

He stops abruptly. He can hear them both talking above him now; Luke and Fin.

Of course Luke is with her.

He growls. Keeps climbing thinking about what he's going to say to her…until he catches their words and stops cold, everything he wanted to say wiped from his mind listening to them fight: about _him_.

She's on the sofa with him; sitting so close her side is pressed against his. There's something in her hand, she presses it to the corner of her mouth…an ice pack he realizes.

Fucking Luke gave her a split lip.

Anger flushes through him burning down his spine clenching his hands into tight aching fists at his side. Never mind Luke's obvious black eye…he should know better than to fucking injure her. Hell is that dipshit thinking?!

"You could stay."

They both fall silent on the couch while Daryl fumes over that prospect.

Life with Luke always around…constantly touching her; Chris sparing with her with his God Damn wandering hands…his teeth grind painfully at the thought; hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically at his side. His feet shift on the floor.

"I could come back after this trip; but I have to finish this; and I don't know how long it will take."

She sighs, leans her head against Luke's shoulder. Obviously she doesn't want him to go.

Daryl's insides twist into a bigger knot.

"That bad huh?"

She nods. Luke hums with some thought he's not voicing, then shakes his head.

"I could go kick his ass you know."

_What? Who the Hell are they talking about now? Is it Chris? Did he do something to upset her?_

His jaw clenches mouth pulled into a heavy scowl.

She snorts, drawing his attention back to the conversation; away from his thoughts of skinning Chris alive…

"What is it about this guy? I mean; I never pegged you in a million years for the pissy bad-boy type."

Daryl freezes mid-inhale nearly choking. _Oh. _He realizes with a start.

_They're still talking about him. _

His eyes narrow.

_Pfft. Like Luke could ever kick his ass. _

_Fuck all that fancy shit they were doing earlier. Daryl knows how to brawl, he'd knock Luke's Scrawny Punk-Ass out._

"He's not pissy." Fin pulls away from his shoulder, starts to defend him while Luke scoffs.

She scowls at him. "Yeah okay, well he isn't always pissy…He can be…really sweet."

_Shit._ It feels like his chest is expanding with too much air, tightening and lifting like a helium balloon.

"I think you deserve better."

Something inside him bursts. It's like getting kicked in the gut.

Pain slams into his stomach, seizes his heart in his chest squeezing the air back out of his lungs with a near silent gasp of anguish at what he already knows to be true…

Seraphim is scowling at Luke, ice pack no longer pressed to her face.

"It's none of your damn business, you don't even know him."

"I know Chris has been trying to get your attention for the last 6 years now; and you never even offered him the time of day! What the hell did this guy do that has you so wrapped up that he can treat you like shit and you don't even see it?"

He's not treating her like Shit! She told him to leave her alone, he was just trying to protect her; keep her safe…alive and by his side…how could that be wrong? And what the fuck is Luke's fucking hard-on for getting Chris with Fin?!

The ice pack drops from her hand into her lap as she crosses her arms over her chest in indignation.

"We had a fight; it happens, we'll get over it."

_God he wants that…he just isn't sure how to make it happen._

"And I don't like Chris…like that."

_Thank God. _

"You might if you gave him half a chance."

They're both glaring at Luke now. Daryl growls arms crossing over his chest. If she isn't interested, she isn't _fucking_ interested.

"Fabulous!" She leaps up, starts to pace in quick sweeping strides, turns back to glare down at Luke once more waving her arm into the air between them.

"This just never gets old, I'm not twelve years old God Damnit! You don't get to tell me what to do, or where to go, and you most certainly do not get to tell me who to date!"

_He's starting to see where he went wrong._

Obviously this is a sore spot for her; being bossed around. Since the argument is against Luke, he completely agrees with her…he frowns.

They're getting kind of loud. No doubt everyone will be able to hear them if they keep this up. And they seem to be on a serious roll…

"Oh so you're dating the guy? How's that work exactly? Does he even speak in full sentences? Has he ever said he wants to be with you, that he loves you? You don't know the first God Damn thing about this guy! I hope your being careful at least!"

_Love. _

_Fuck._

_Is he in Love with her?_

His head is reeling, his hands shake pressed against his thighs, palms sweating at the thought…he can't breathe suddenly; it feels like there's a truck sitting on his chest.

"Fuck you! What I'm doing isn't any of your damn business!"

"Oh, that's brilliant Finny! What the fuck are you thinking? That settles it, you're leaving with us when we go, because it's obvious to me you've got no idea what's actually going on here!"

Daryl's head snaps up with a snarl.

_No fucking way is he taking her now. He doesn't get to tell her what to do, so Luke sure as Hell doesn't get to either!_

"Oh and you do? News Flash Luke: You have a PhD in Chemistry that doesn't make you Doctor Love, Dumbass!"

Luke is up off the couch, throws his ice pack down, waving his arms at her. They're both beyond yelling, he's not certain they aren't about to come to blows. God knows in his family that's where this would be headed…his muscles tense ready to jump between them if need be, they're still so busy fighting neither of them has noticed him.

"I know a Hell of a lot more then you do, I'm a guy."

Judging by Seraphim's expression Luke might want to run.

She snorts, voice dropping to an ice cold snarl. "A _Dick_ doesn't give you the right to dictate my life! You can shove your misogynistic-"

Luke cuts her off, talking over top of her.

"When was the last time you dated Finny? Oh wait, that's right you don't. Chris asked you out how many times?"

"-I told you: I Don't Like Chris!"

His lips pull up in a fierce grin; every part of him approves when she says that; and hearing her say it will _never_ get old.

"Fine, you don't like Chris! But you also don't know the first damn thing about men; you're fucking clueless!"

_Whoa_. She's the least clueless person he's ever met in his whole damn life…

"Worse than that, you're gullible as shit! This isn't some romance novel!" He gets the sinking feeling that Luke is still talking about him…his insides twist with a wave of anxiety.

He's not good enough for her; he knows it; Luke knows it.

"What exactly do you think is going on here? You spend a few weeks with a guy and suddenly you're all but married to him?"

His eyes slip shut watching her face crumple with pain. How could he be so stupid? A cold sweat breaks across his back, prickling the skin at the back of his neck. Luke's next words strike him like hammer blows.

"He's not even speaking to you! That's pathetic Finny! What are you gonna do just follow him around like some pathetic looser until he gets you killed?"

_Ouch._ Luke is kicking him in the gut again, the agonizingly painful truth is so intense this time he has to lean forward; brace his hands against his knees trying to pull air into his lungs around the bile clawing its way up the back of his throat.

She's breathing so hard he can hear it even from here. His head jerks up, spine snapping vertical as a steel rod the second her sob reaches his ears.

_Fuck. She's crying. She's crying because of him…_his breath huffs out around the lump in his throat. Watching her fight back the tears, it's killing him…his chest aches just watching every hitched breath she fights to inhale.

She draws herself up, still all of five foot nothing, looking so delicate despite the fury on her face. Girl would fight to the death, of that he's certain.

"Screw you!" She turns to leave. But Luke is grabbing her wrist with one hand; jerks her back to face him. She cries out in pain and he almost darts across the room; ready to smash his fist into Luke's face until he's nothing but a bloody pulp for touching her so carelessly.

Until Luke's next words drain all the blood from his face, make him feel light headed, eyes wide.

"Just because somebody _Fucks_ you doesn't mean they give a _Shit_ about you."

_She can't honestly think that…believe that…fuck. _

There's a knife blade twisting in his chest, slowly carving out his heart; digging under his ribs and driving the air from his lungs in tight harsh panting rasps.

"Let go of me before I turn that black eye into a matching set."

_God he loves her. _

It pours through him like a liquid red hot lightning bolt.

The realization tightening his gut, knocking what little air is left in his lungs out in a strangled wheeze.

_He fucking loves her._

He feels dizzy, and high and somehow grounded all at once.

Love. It's painful and intoxicatingly sweet and too many swirling thoughts to focus on at once, overwhelming him where he stands, frozen in the dark listening to Luke ruin him.

"I'm serious Fin. He doesn't give a God Damn about anything but a piece of ass, that's what you are to him; that's all you'll ever be. You're smarter than this; get your head out of your ass."

His hands clench into white knuckled fists that shake against his sides.

_He Loves her… and Luke thinks he doesn't give a shit about her, is trying to fucking convince her of it too._

Luke couldn't be more wrong.

She's everything to him…she's the only God Damn thing he can think about anymore.

From the second he wakes up, through every fucking tedious second of the day; doesn't matter what he's doing, or where he is; part of him can't stop…has no earthly desire to even try.

He's become completely obsessed with her: her smell, her laugh; the scent of her hair…the feel of her skin sliding under his…his cock twitches in an instantaneous rush of desire to hold her again.

It's been too God Damn long since he touched her, held her close, claimed her as his… something in him can't get enough of that; roars with approval every time she gasps his name, hands clawing down his back marking him; arching with her release.

Fuck even touching her casually is like a damn drug; his fingers itch to do it whenever she's around; and even when she's not he thinks about it…he's never wanted to just reach out and touch someone before… brush her hair back from her face; grab her hand…_Shit. _

He's even guilty of something as asinine as painting her fingernails while she sleeps…just so he can use the excuse to touch her…stay by her side when there's other far more important things he should be doing…

_Not that he'd admit that to anyone._

_Fuck. It's true._

_He is In Love with her…_

_One more thing he has no fucking clue how to tell her._

Luke is still holding her wrist, while they glare at each other. Daryl watches her hand clench into a fist.

"I'm Serious Luke. Let Go."

"You best do as she says before we have a bigger problem." He snarls it, every ounce of possessive fury inside him poured into the words.

Luke lets go, his hand drops limp to his side. He keeps glaring at her, ignoring Daryl presence completely...which is in all honesty probably the only thing stopping him from bashing in Luke's head right now.

"Think it over Finny. You know I'm right." He grabs the dropped ice pack from the sofa and leaves climbing up the ladder towards the rest of the group.

_He's right about one thing, and only that._

_But it's the worst of all of it…at least for him._

Because love her or not, there is no doubt in his mind that he doesn't deserve her.

She's so far beyond him… she's not just a fucking doctor, for Christ sake; she's brave and self-less, clever and smart, and heart-stoppingly-gorgeous and fuck it all: every bit of her is perfect.

While he's a nuthin but a worthless nobody.

Seraphim keeps staring at the wall, hasn't moved a muscle since he's announced his presence.

Shit, she's probably embarrassed as fuck. He could kick himself for being such a dumbass. He's always messing things up…she should go with Luke…somewhere he can't fuck up her life any more than he already has.

Shouldn't have said anything. He feels like he has to acknowledge what Luke said, he's just not sure how. He draws a tight breath into his lungs.

"He's right. You do deserve better."

She deserves so much better than anything he has to offer; which is next to nuthin.

Her sharp bitter laugh makes him jump, tightens the knot in his chest…she can't really find that's funny can she?

The idea that he doesn't deserve her?

His eyes burn, he's infinitely grateful for the darkness hiding him.

She's shaking her head suddenly while he's still trying to figure this out, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling for a few tense heartbeats that resonant louder than drum beats in his ears.

Her face is a perfect mask of calm when she spins to face him suddenly, before he knows what to say. She thrusts her arms out backing away from him while his heart sinks turned into a heavy lead weight in his chest.

"Well, I guess that's the least of my worries if all I am is a quick easy fuck."

The air hisses out from between his clenched teeth.

She can't honestly believe that…but she does, he can tell by the look on her face. She fucking believes it and he can't seem to get his useless tongue in his mouth to form the words to tell her she's wrong. He's too busy choking on the agony throbbing in his chest where his heart used to be, trying to coax enough air back into his lungs that he doesn't black out from the pain.

She spins back toward the ladder and leaves before he can stop her.

He has to lean his back against the solid wall and gasp for air, while his eyes water to the point that his nose runs and his chest is on fire. He slides to the floor, burying his face in his hands.

_He's in love with her._

_And he's fucked it all up so hard; he has no idea how to fix it._

* * *

_**Notes:** Hang in there everyone! _


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: **Seraphim Chance is my creation, so are the other OC's contained in this story; Luke Chance and Chris Church. Daryl and the rest of the cast belong to TWD and AMC. I borrow them without permission so I can give my muse some exercise and get these plot ideas out of my head before I go crazy!

**Notes:: Content Warnings** for this chapter: contains Sexual Assault, might be triggering for some readers.

Just a little more angsty bit before we can get to the make up fluff...well...not really fluff...I mean _Come On peeps_. It's Daryl Dixon!...Daryl doesn't do fluff. :P

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Two**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

He's gone the next morning.

Of course he is.

I don't think even a small part of me is surprised by that fact when Rick mentions it; right in front of Luke and Chris too.

I bite the inside of my cheek, shrug like I don't care.

Breakfast tastes bland and I don't have much stomach for it. Find myself staring at the ground, listening to Luke talk to Rick and Glenn casually from my right. Chris chatting up Beth a few feet away, she laughs at something he says. _I should tell her to be careful._

_Not that it matters. We'll be gone soon._

Carol tries to speak to me after Rick and Glenn leave, I wave her off with a quick: "I'm fine."

I can't talk to her about Daryl with Luke sitting right here, maybe not even if we were alone.

I can't even meet her eyes, not with her knowing everything that was said last night; they _all_ know.

It's too mortifying to even put into words.

But I wont have to deal it soon.

Her lips tighten, eyes narrow thoughtfully but then Chris is at my side taking my elbow with a grin, telling me we're going to go spar with Luke and Beth of all people; and I turn away from her following his lead.

I stop a few steps later Chris lets his go of my elbow after a second of hesitation when I turn back; but he stands there staring at me as I walk back to Carol; press a brief hug to her whispering soft and unsteady; "Thank you for everything, take care of Mika," before spinning back around.

_At least I can do that._

We spar for almost a two hours, it's lighter today; both Luke and I are sore and stiff and Beth knows next to nothing.

If I was staying I could change that; she's shockingly defenseless. It makes my stomach knot with anxiety even while I try to remind myself that it's not my job to look out for Beth.

Luke is right; I don't owe these people anything.

_It doesn't make me feel any better._

Eventually Beth slips up; too busy trying to impress Chris to really pay attention. I cringe looking at her bleeding nose. It's either broken or she's never had a bloody nose before judging by the tears.

"Jeeze! God I'm so sorry!" Luke frets over her offering to take her back upstairs, he's always had a soft spot for crying girls… Judging by his tight expression he's probably wondering whether Rick or Glenn are going to kick his ass first for returning the little blonde bloodied up. I consider warning him that it's probably going to be Maggie; but I bite my tongue.

They start to head back Luke still apologizing profusely even with Beth assuring him in a thick voice that it's okay, it was just an accident.

"You need me to go with you?" Chris doesn't look ready to follow them though, still facing me. He's been sparring with me for the last twenty minutes at least. I honestly could use a break. I'm getting sick of practicing moves when all his hand holds and releases feel more like caresses. They linger just a little too long making my stomach twist in revulsion.

It's always been like that with Chris, but after everything that's happened…it makes my skin crawl.

"I'm done too." I back away.

"Oh come on, don't quit yet." Chris placates me with a pout.

"I'm tired, Chris, and I'm sore." But more than anything, I want to get away from him. I just don't want him to touch me anymore.

"Fine let's go read a book or something, gonna take Luke a hot minute to patch Beth up anyways."

"You shouldn't have asked her to join us." I'm positive Beth wouldn't have asked to spar if she wasn't trying to get Chris's attention; or if he hadn't suggested it. It's so like him.

"Hey, she wanted to!"

"She's wholly unprepared to spar like this!" I frown over my shoulder at him.

"All the more reason to show her some moves."

I snort. We're back inside the fence now, it's dark on this level. I can feel Chris's footfalls behind me on the concrete.

"I need a shower." I do, but more so I just need some space the hell away from Chris. The shower is someplace he can't follow me.

"Sounds great."

I cringe at his tone. "Fine. You can go first."

"We can go together…"

My heart stops. "Get your hands off me."

"Come on Finny; you lost your damn precious V-card to that complete nobody; Luke told me all about it. So why don't you loosen up for once in your damn life."

More humiliation pours through me, twists under my ribcage. "I Said Let Go!"

My back is suddenly against the wall my skull connects so hard my teeth click painfully; copper fills my mouth. I must have bitten my tongue…

Chris's mouth presses to mine, his face is scratchy and rough I shove at him in a blind panic wrenching my head to the side. His mouth slides over my neck instead, one hand squeezing me painfully through my shirt.

I try to pull my knee up to shove him back, but he's stronger than me…has had the same training…they're always stronger than me…it all floods back to me in a single terrifying second; closes off the air in my throat, strangling off my scream.

_That night in the woods…the thick northern and jersey accents while they taunted me laying bound and helpless in the dirt…Caleb's hands pinning me down; his cruel smirk before he bent to run his tongue down the side of my neck while Robert laughed…flailing uselessly against Eli's hold. Kyle's grip on my wrists so tight it feels like the bones in my wrists are rubbing together… so painful I was certain they were breaking. He squeezed the delicate bones together so hard it took several minutes to get the feeling back into my fingers after that grip loosened; when Daryl stopped them…but Daryl isn't here… _

_He left me._

_God. _

A sob tears out of me.

He didn't want me just like Luke said…

_He left me._

Fear claws up my throat. I jerk and twist reeling when Chris's elbow comes down smashing into my cheekbone. Red and white flashes across my vision blurring the darkness. He's stronger than me.

Panic assails me.

They're always stronger…I gasp for air flooded with pain and terror, twisting and getting nowhere still. Brain floundering trying to think of a way out of this…_saving myself is my only hope._

_They may all be stronger…but I'm smarter._

I force myself to relax, lean into Chris's chest and temper the sound of revulsion at his hand sliding under my shirt into one that might pass for desire.

It works. His grip changes, still rough-painful but now he's trying to pull open my pants, hot breath against my ear making me shudder in disgust unable to stop my body from curling away from the sensation in revulsion.

Bile rises in my throat, blood rushes in my ears while I fight to think…fight to control my reactions…I have to think, I can't panic: no one is coming to save me.

"So that's how you like it huh? Rough? Just like a dirty whore; should have known. You're just pretending to be a good girl. You're a God Damn cock tease! You let that guy fuck you like this? Does this turn you on?" His hand fists in my hair, jerking my head so far back I can't swallow; my eyes water. I grunt in pain when it pulls my aching shoulder.

"Get on your knees."

Fear slams into me tenfold, tears bloom in my eyes, not that he can see them in the dark…especially with his hands shoving me down to the cold hard concrete floor in front of him…his fingers digging into the small gauze square still taped under my collar.

I inhale sharply try to use the pain to focus my fear, plan the exact sequence of moves I'll need. Grateful for the dark, I can use it to my advantage now.

I wait until his belt is open, until he's distracted; hands working on his pants before I strike. I drop back onto the concrete kicking straight up; slamming my boot up as hard as I can where it will do the most damage.

He doubles forward still trying to grab for me but I'm darting between his legs twisting and kicking the back of his knees. He crashes to the floor with a painful grunt, wheezing in agony. I clasp my hands together and slam my fist into his back, driving him down onto his stomach. I stand and kick him in the side as he rolls over; exposing his face.

My mind goes blank to anything but the images that have haunted me for too long in my nightmares; those nameless faces in the woods flashing right alongside Caleb and Robert and Kyle and Eli….and now Chris…

Chris who was supposed to be Luke's best friend…my friend…

_It stops now._

I drive my fist into his face over and over until he stops moving, he's still breathing though…I didn't kill him.

I bolt up off the floor; run blindly from the room, fleeing recklessly through the back section toward the hallway mind completely blank of any plan beyond putting distance between us as fast as possible. I push open the door twisting to check behind me; make sure he isn't following me before slamming full force into Carol.

She barely manages to brace herself and me before we both crash to the ground.

"Seraphim! What the Hell is…" She stops taking in my face. "Fin?" Her hands lock around my arms.

I'm shaking.

"Fin, what happened?"

I can't stop shaking…

I raise my blood soaked hand to my mouth press it there try to swallow down the wounded sound clawing its way up my throat, keep it contained...

Carol's eyes widen taking in my bloody split knuckles. Her hands slide up my arms wrapping around my back pulling me close to her chest.

She feels warm and safe…I collapse against her sobbing.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer**: The Main AMC characters are not mine; they belong to their creators and the actors who expertly portray them onscreen.

**Notes:**Happy Saturday!

Short chapter, but I'll try to get the next one up soon!

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Three**

(Daryl's POV)

* * *

"Hey!" Her voice assaults him the second his boots hit the roof top. He should have known; should have just slept in his damn truck…or Hell in the woods even, only way to stop their meddling…

"What the Hell were you thinking?" She stomps towards him while he tries to settle his crossbow and his pack on the same shoulder.

"Daryl!"

He should just keep walking. Maybe she'll get the picture and leave him alone—

"Daryl!"

—or not.

"Just leave it be Carol."

He's been out there since before the sun came up worrying it all over, kept him up all damn night too.

First trying to figure out what the fuck to say to fix this whole fucking mess; then convincing himself that there isn't anything to say; he should just let her be. He's in love; but there's no fucking way she feels the same.

She deserves better. He'll only hurt her, or worse get her killed. And if she's mad at him she'll leave with Luke and Chris. They can offer her a better life where ever the Hell it is they're going back to.

"Not until you get your head out of your ass!"

"My head aint up my ass; just back the Hell off! I'm doing the right damn thing here!"

She's glaring at him, face twists into an ugly expression. "Oh, Well then...The right damn thing for WHO exactly?"

He chews on that for a second. "She belongs with family."

"I thought _we_ we're family."

He squints at her, silent.

"So that's it? You just give up on everything because you think she's better off with Luke and Chris?"

"Yeah. That's it. It's better off this way. I don't have nuthin to offer her."

_What the Hell did Carol expect? _ Luke was right. This wasn't some damn romance novel. He didn't get the happy ending; not in his life….certainly never expected to get the girl. Seraphim would leave with them and things would just go back to the way they had been…

He'd learn to live with the gaping hole throbbing straight through his chest with every breath.

"So she's better off?" Carol's arms cross.

"Yes." He's snarling.

_God why can't she just fucking drop it_?

"So you're perfectly okay with the way Chris has been following Seraphim around?"

Something in his chest howls. His fists clench, teeth grinding. He has to look away.

"He's better for her then I am." It comes out a snarl…leaves a putrid taste in the back of his mouth.

"If you actually believe that you're Huge Fucking Idiot, Daryl!"

_He's been hearing that a lot lately._

"Tell me, If he's so good for her why did I just spend the last hour bandaging her hand? Patching up her face?"

His stomach knots. _Shit._ If Luke split her lip again he's going to have a hard time not punching the asshole in the face. "They spar all the time…"

"No Daryl!"

He freezes.

Carol is screaming at him. Carol _Never_ screams at him…at anybody…

"She about broke it defending herself against Chris! Had to punch him in the face because he didn't want to take 'No' for an answer!"

All the air leaves his lungs in a painful rush, her words confirming his vilest fears.

"He came on to her after you left! Cornered her in the hallway, and she had to fight him off! That's the kind of man he is!"

"What?!"

"Better for her my ass; she needs You! You big dummy. And if you don't go down there and fix this Shit _right now_, and I mean _Right Fucking Now_! She's might actually leave with that monster and then whatever he does to her; it really will be your fault! She belongs here."

He stares at her. Swallowing hard while the rest of her words sink in. "Is she okay?"

Carol's voice has gone quiet again. "No Daryl. She's not, she's really not. And she hasn't been for days if you took the time to notice! And if the way you feel about that is _anything close_ to the _look_ on your face right now then you get your ass down there and tell her to Stay!"

He's already moving across the rooftop, mind racing while he slips down the ladder two rungs at a time, dropping his pack onto the table near the entrance; he'll deal with the fruits of his hunting trip later.

Carol's right. He has to see her now. _Right Now._

And then he'll have to rip Chris into a million pieces with his bare hands.

He crosses to the shed that makes up her private bedroom upstairs, knocks on the door quickly before pushing it open, checking inside to find it empty.

She must be downstairs…In their room.

She hasn't been down there for days; not since their fight.

He's not sure where Chris and Luke are, almost everyone is already asleep at this hour. If he runs into either of them in the hallway he's not certain he can stop himself from decking them both.

Screw all that fancy artsy-fartsy kung-fu-movie-shit, his fists clenches at the thought while he's moving toward the ladder.

He's going to just sucker punch them both right in the mouth.

If he doesn't just shoot them both first.

He'd like to see them dodge that.

He's almost to the back hallway when he catches sight of Luke walking ahead of him towards their space; confirming that she must be down here.

Luke certainly isn't looking for _him_.

Rage curls through his chest flaring bright and hot, all the shit Luke said about him and he lets this shit happen to her?

"Hey! Don't know where the Hell you think you're going!"

Luke turns his head making a face. "You again? I thought you left." Luke twists the rest of the way to face him stopping halfway down the hall to their room. If she's down there trying to deal with what happened with Chris; last thing she fucking needs is Luke poking around stirring more shit up.

Luke waves a dismissive hand at him. "This is all your fault you know."

He draws himself up. "The Hell you figure that?"

_He didn't attack Seraphim, what the Hell is this dumbass on about?_

"Don't play dumb with me! Chris told me what happened. He was sparring with Fin and she over reacted; just fucking freaked out…Because of you, and your bullshit; I don't know what the Hell you did to her, but you're the one she should be punching!"

"That's a Crock of Shit! Why don't Chris come out and say that to my fucking face?! I'm already gonna beat his ass for trying to take liberties that aint his!" He snarls. "You do both yourselves a favor and stay the Hell away from her right now!"

"You trying to tell me what to do?"

"Shit, Aint no Try. This aint your damn house, this aint your damn call. Piss off!"

"Wrong. This isn't any of your business; because you're done with her-or do we have a problem?"

Luke's expression makes him want to reach for his knife, fingers itching to have his bow; which he left upstairs. She probably wouldn't appreciate him killing her cousin in a fit of rage…

"I Aint done with nuthin; sure as Hell not just 'cause you say so…You think your so damn smart? Huh? Got this Shit all figured out? Man, You don't know Jack! And yeah, as long as your buddy is follow'n after _My Girl_ then we gots ourselves _A Big Damn Problem_!"

"She's not _your girl_." Luke is moving closer to him. Daryl clenches his fists, shifting his weight ready for Luke to lunge.

"Both of you _Stop It_!"

_Shit_.

Girl's going to kill them both.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

Somebodies in trouble!** xD **


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em if I did Fin would have popped out of the woods instead of Joe's band of Jerkfaces and told Daryl to get his sexy Emo ass off the pavement. And then they would have all stomped into Terminus and kicked some serious ass together!

*sigh* If only…

hmmm….might have to actually write that out for giggles…any thoughts? xD

**Notes:** This is an M chapter…seriously….M as in Yummy… Mmmmm. Buahahahaha. Seriously. No kids allowed. XD

Big thanks to all the readers, especially the reviewers; it's amazing to me how many people read this story/comment and even PM me about it; you guys are amazing! Don't stop! : D

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Four **

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"_Both of you Stop It!" _

_Shit. _

_Girl's going to kill them both._

They both freeze.

His stomach clenches watching her walk down the hallway.

She's got the wicked beginnings of a black eye, dark blue tints her cheekbone fans down her cheek fading near her chin. The knuckles of her right hand are heavily wrapped, swathed in thick gauze layers...she's just barely limping. The barest discernable unevenness to her walk. And yet somehow despite all that her eyes still flash with fire when her gaze meets his.

Even Luke shrinks back from her a step.

"I'm _not_ a God Damn hambone! I swear to God! It's like living with a pack of wild dogs."

"Jesus Fin your face-"

"Oh don't worry I just _Over Reacted_; I tend to do that when people try to stick their tongues down my throat. Or is that _not_ Chris's story? I mean why would you even bother to ask _me_ what happened? Since you know everything already."

Luke curses. "I didn't mean it like that…" He's staring down at the concrete scrubbing at his brow with one hand.

He doesn't look sorry-he looks guilty for getting caught, eyes still narrowed at Daryl when he looks up.

"Yes you did Luke; and I'm sick of it. Just leave me alone right now. Tell Chris if he comes down here I'm gonna let Daryl beat the shit out of him _before_ he shoots him."

"You're not seriousl…"

"Luke. Do _Not_ Push Me Right Now."

Luke stares at her for a full minute; looks like he plans to argue but he doesn't, just glares at Daryl as he passes storming back up the hallway and disappearing through the door.

They're alone.

He hasn't been alone with her in _Days_…feels more like weeks.

Now that he's looking at her again; after circling the woods all day mulling it over for hours and tearing his brain apart for the right words all of last night; after storming down here without a plan: he's got no idea what to say.

But she does.

"You left." Her voice is quiet, factual.

He nods once, eyes locked on the ground. " 'm sorry." It's barely audible, whispered down at his boots.

"Are you okay?" Her tone is softer.

His eyes dart to her face in confusion. "Hell you asking _me_ for?"

She's the one all beat to Hell again…

She's moved closer to him while he was looking down. Barely makes a sound with her bare feet. She's so close he could touch her if he could just reach out his hands…

She's staring at him silently, mere inches away. Her face is miraculously un-swollen; the only outward sign of her struggle earlier the color painting her pale skin. Carol must have made the same poultice Fin created for Rick to heal his bruises; it seems putting it on immediately has an even better result.

Still it's got to sting like Hell. He lifts his hand slowly not sure if he should touch her or not; she doesn't pull away when presses one fingertip to the butterfly tape at the edge of her brow, undoubtedly courtesy of Carol patching her up.

He stares down at her, completely lost. Her eyes are the same vibrant green hue as the first new maple leaves in Spring. Just the barest hint of grey blooming against their dark centers; reminding him of dark thunderous storm clouds far off in the distance. The kind he's seen all his life lying crouched over the green hills in the middle of long hot Georgia Summer afternoons.

Girls not unlike a swirling thunderstorm herself.

Blowing into his life like a hurricane; flipping everything upside-down, soaking into his skin all the way down to the bone.

"How can you be asking me that—" his fingertip traces down her temple, slides over her cheek while she stares at him, "when Chris did this to you—" he catches one of the long red gold wisps out of place against her chin, "and I was a complete ass about everything." He tucks it back behind her ear with careful fingers. Drops his hand back to his side shaking his head.

"So, why would you be ask'n _me_ if I'm okay when you _Should_ be punching me in the face?"

She confuses the Hell out of him sometimes...most of the time…maybe all the time.

"Cause _you're_ the one that _left_…is…" She stops staring down at her bare toes, breathing slowly. Her loose hair tips forward, spills over her shoulder in a fluttering thick wave; curtains both sides of her face almost hiding her from view. "…is it me?"

"Yes."

"oh."

She doesn't move, still staring down at her bare feet; doesn't look up when he steps closer to her. Even when his fingers brush the side of her bruised cheek, cup her chin lifting her face up to the remaining light.

Her eyes are shut tight, blocking him out.

"What Luke said, 'bout you deserving better than me…it's true…but the rest of it, that's a load of Shit; I want you to know that...I need you to know—"

She leans into his palm with a shaky exhale; trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist, holding his hand against her face. "Daryl…"

"No." His head shakes, his other hand slides back through her loose hair, cups the back of her neck. "No. I said it the first night… an' I meant it…you're perfect…an' I don't deserve that; any part of it…_you_…I don't deserve _you_."

"Daryl…."

"Shush up and lemme finish."

Before he loses his nerve.

Her lips quirk up before she bites her lip, eyes still shut tight her cheek pressed to his roughly calloused palm.

"I don't know how to say it. Thought about it for days…I'm no good at this; never had to be…" He draws in a tight breath while her eyes open to stare up at him once more, distracting him. Looking into them makes his heart race even harder; nerves twisting in his chest and it's suddenly that much harder to draw the words out.

He doesn't _know_ another way to say it…but he has to make her understand somehow.

"I want you all the time…"

Her brow raises cheeks flushing pink under his fingers. His breath huffs out in a rushed nervous exhale and he can feel his cheeks heating too. His voice turns rougher with the embarrassed flush crawling up his neck.

"Not like _that_. Well—not _just_ like that. I want you _around_ _all_ the time, every second: and it scares the Hell outta me. Something is missing when you're gone; something I never even knew I needed, not 'til now… I don't know what _this_ is, but I don't want it to stop. Not _ever_. It _can't_: I don't know who I am when you're not next to me. But I know who I want to be when you are…"

She's still staring at him, hasn't walked away yet. That's good right?

Her teeth are still pressed against that distracting bottom lip. He has to drag his eyes back to hers so he doesn't kiss her; not without knowing if she wants him too, not without getting the words out first.

"When I thought you were gonna leave with Luke…I tried to convince myself that you'd be better off without me…I mean Shit. Look how much trouble you've had just since I've come around, I've done a piss poor job of keeping you safe—"

"Daryl—"

He shakes his head, fingers tightening in her hair. "You're not a quick lay—" His hands are shaking against her skin. "Hell, I couldn't get you out of my head…not from the first day I met you; an'…I'm sorry 'bout what I said—with Luke. I just…" His eyes slip shut with a heavy weighted sigh. "It made _perfect_ sense to me that there was someone else out there for you; someone _better_…"

"Shut up."

His heart is abruptly in his throat, breath leaving him in a heady rush because she's pressed against him, whole body melding against his chest, mouth sliding over his and it's not enough…

_God it will never be enough._

The strain of not touching her these past few days is too much like trying to hold his breath underwater; the aching burn flaring brighter and hotter 'til he can't resist; can't fight it anymore:

It feels too much like dying trying to exist without her.

She's become his air: honeyed, exhilarating, intoxicating air.

His arms slip around her, dragging her closer. Breathes her in filling his lungs with her soft scent. Then he's lifting her up to his mouth while she's practically crawling up his chest; arms tight around his shoulders, calves locking around his waist, fingers lost in his hair while he holds them both up.

She moans into his mouth, gasps against his lips when his fingers twist in her hair shifting her so he can take control, claim her mouth with his.

_Possession… that's what this is. _

_He's never felt anything like this mind-altering rush; it's more potent than any liquor, more addicting then all the drugs left in the god-forsaken world. Her presence leaves him lightheaded and half-stupid: incapable of focusing on anything but her; shaking from head to toe like an addict. _

_That's what this wicked feeling curling through his insides does to him when she's close. When he can touch her, hold her; breathe her in deep, he can't think of anything else._

She is _His_; every gorgeous inch of her; every gasp and sigh and whisper of his name against his own lips when he pulls back to catch a breath before diving back in.

And _she's his because she Wants to be—_

_His Girl._

Fuck whatever Luke or anyone else thinks.

He doesn't have to let her go.

Her fingers tighten over his shoulder, one fist tightening in his hair giving her the advantage of control now_. _She tightens her legs around his waist, flexing lithe muscles lifting herself over him; shifting their embrace with her new height.

_And just like that it becomes his surrender... _

Anything she wants, it's hers to take.

If she wants control: its hers.

He lets her have it all without question.

He would follow her lead anywhere.

He lets her mouth slide over his, tongue invading his mouth without hesitation, sliding against him devouring him. Simply holds her tight against his chest and enjoys every second of her ravaging his mouth, fingers sliding through his hair, taking everything he has while he mirrors her movements, takes everything she gives him somehow still desperate for more.

Her fingers tilt his chin; turning him while she's melting against him, pouring too many damn days of hurt and fear and frustration against his mouth.

Everything about their embrace is desperate, reckless, and raw.

Everything he felt and couldn't say; said but didn't mean; it's all weaved into her touch and his. Tempers every breath gasped against her lips, every press of his mouth hungry and commanding over hers, nipping at her lower lip; making her shudder against his mouth before he softens his touch. Kissing her slow and deep before pulling back, pressing a kiss to the corners of her mouth and leaning back just so he can feel her lips chase his; just like that first night when he was terrified to let her in; to touch her the way he'd ached too for days…

He drinks it all in, fingers tightening in her hair. Hand slipping around her waist pulling her closer, even though there's no space between them as it is; not even room for air.

He can feel each beat of her frantic heart against his chest. The press of her heat against his stomach where his shirt has ridden up when she wrapped herself around him.

His hands shake and his head spins, and all he can hear is the rush of blood pounding in his ears; and her sigh against his lips before she's taking his mouth prisoner again. He kisses her back 'til he can't remember how to breath; doesn't want to if it means he's got to let go of this even for a second…

His hands slip down her back again, tracing her spine through her thin shirt hands gripping that perfectly distracting ass and grinding her heat against his belt buckle.

She breaks the kiss with a strangled open mouthed gasp against his lips. Pulls back another few inches and stares at him emerald eyes wide and wild, breathing ragged and fast, hair out of place, disheveled and twisted from his greedy wandering hands.

She leans into his chest, presses her forehead against his shoulder breath warm and rushed, soaking through the worn cotton to his feverish skin. Every inch of her lithe body still pressed against him heating him all the way to his toes.

"I thought when you left, you'd realized that you didn't need me around; that you'd never wanted me to begin with…it all happened so fast…"

"It happened fast because I couldn't help myself whenever you were around…still can't." His thumbs slide over her cheek feather soft ever mindful of the bruise just starting to color her skin. "Don't go with them, please…_Stay with me_."

She's winding her hand around the back of his neck, tilting his head down and leaning into him 'til his forehead is pressed to hers. Her words brush his lips, brand his chest when she speaks.

"I promise not to go away Daryl, as long as _you_ promise to _Stay_."

He can't breathe, chest constricting and consumed with heat from her words. The sensation works its way down through his belly, floods every nerve and cell with a heady tingle that makes his pulse race and his head spin.

_Stay_

He nods against her, fingers tightening pulling her closer so he can whisper it back against her neck; arms wrapped what must be painfully tight around her delicate frame. God he'll never leave again, he swears.

"I promise not to go either, as long as you're going to Stay. I know I was an Ass before, and I promise to make it up to you."

She's nodding against his chest, face buried in the hollow under his throat.

"I missed this; God I missed you." Her lips brush his neck just over his pulse.

His stomach tightens with sensations that have nothing to do with nerves.

The knots that have worked their way through his insides growing tighter and tighter by the day have started to loosen, shifting into a completely different kind of pressure. One focused entirely on her chest pressed flush against his; the delicious heat of her arousal pressed against his abs from her straddling his waist, legs wrapped around his hips.

His groin tightens thinking about just how delicious he knows that part of her is. The memory of pressing his mouth to her apex, making her writhe and gasp and cum on his tongue is so powerful he has to close his eyes. He presses his nose to her skin, breathing her in deep; shaking, not that it helps the desire rolling up his spine, or the distracting waves of want beating at his self-control.

He can't think of anything else, not when he's filling his lungs with her scent, and the heat of her soft skin is soaking into his.

But after Chris…after everything and everyone that's hurt her the last few weeks…his arms tighten around her waist. She feels so delicate pressed against him like this; she feels breakable and vulnerable and petite.

It's a lie though. She's the strongest person he's ever met.

"Seraphim," She hums against his chest in response. "Are _you_ alright?" She nods against his neck. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

So maybe he can distract himself from his raging hard-on; keep himself from ripping off all her clothes; pinning her to the cold floor beneath their feet and fucking her 'til they've both screamed themselves hoarse; 'til she can't walk tomorrow her legs are so weak…

And so he knows _exactly_ how many pieces to hack Chris into tomorrow morning…

"Chris kissed me…put his hands under my shirt…" She shudders in revulsion turns her head to press her face into his chest, her breath warm on his skin.

"I'm going to kill him." It's a vengeful hiss, if his hands weren't sliding over her back they'd be punching something.

"I think I almost did already…"

"Good. I'll just go finish the job." Her fingers fisting in his shirt over his heart keep him still, stop him from moving even an inch let alone setting her down and going to fulfill his threat.

"He's not worth the arrow. You can punch him in the face tomorrow; just stay with me right now, please."

He buries his nose in her soft hair breathing her in. Always the faint whiff of vanilla and some other soft spice he still can't classify by name…maybe it's just _her. _

It calls to him, whatever it is; tightens his gut and slides lower; builds upon the throbbing aching roar at the base of his spine while his erection presses almost painfully against his zipper. He shifts her against him, tightens his hands over her thighs, sliding his fingers up to her hips.

She pulls back to slide her hands down his chest, whispering. "Where did you go?"

It takes him a second to understand her meaning; too much blood below his belt.

"Nowhere really; Hunting, walking in circles; trying to keep my mind occupied by keeping myself busy."

"Did it work?" She's staring at him again. He's watching her mouth, cock twitching in interest when her tongue wets her lower lip.

"Hell no. Spent all damn day tripping over my useless feet in the woods thinking about you." His voice is so rough it's barely words.

_God,_ the look she's giving him right now. It tears through him like wildfire, burns up his spine melting whatever reservations he might have about taking her after what Chris did to ash.

His stomach muscles jump when her fingers slip under his shirt hem, press against his hot skin making his eyes slip shut. All his nerves flood with searing heat, he can't think; too much of his brain focused on other ideas.

Ideas of her and him, and a lot less clothes…

"Hell you do'n girl? Don't start something we can't finish." It's no more than a low growl into the air between them.

His fingers wrap around her wrists pulling her hands back to the front of his chest. Clasping them together loosely in his between their chests. It does nothing to calm his already over-excited body. She's still wrapped around his hips, heat pressed against his abs, branding him with her need. Those perfect slender legs keeping her pressed there, draped around him like it's nothing.

His unhelpful brain flashes him images of what this would look like; feel like without their clothes. Just her wrapped around him pale pink skin and hot flesh; his body buried deep in hers while her head tips back and he's thrusting up; piercing her liquid heat and…_Fuck. _

He has to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought, draws a rasping breath, eyes clenched tight so she won't catch him. Look him in the eye and see him almost losing his control, fighting whatever animal instinct she always brings to the surface in him. She doesn't need that right now. Seems he's always pushing it back, feeling it clawing its way through his gut when she's near…always testing his control.

She stills against his chest, turns his chin with just her fingertips, voice suddenly quiet and shy.

"I want you."

Her nervous whisper against his mouth sends lightning bolts of desire down his spine. He dips his head, lets his lips press over her earlobe teeth sliding over soft skin briefly before pulling back with a rough whisper of her name.

She leans away from him slipping her hands through his grasp, sliding them up his chest, to press into his shoulders so she can lower her feet to the floor sliding down his body the whole way.

His body immediately protests the loss of her heat against his skin, misses the press of her soft curves. His fingers still wrapped around her wrists; tighten briefly, following her movements when her hands glide down his stomach again. He's mindful of the gauze on her right hand when he grabs her fingers with his before she can open his belt. Before he's too far gone to stop this.

"We should wait…and I don't think I can sleep; not knowing that asshole is under the same roof as you right now." He should have brought his crossbow; he'll have to go get it…but that will mean walking right by the shed Chris and Luke share.

He might shoot him instead of coming back down, it's a tempting thought.

She blinks up at him. "I highly doubt he'd come back down here tonight; he's an idiot; but he's not suicidal. Plus I doubt he can see anything with both his eyes swelled shut."

Every bit of him enjoys that thought. Hopes she beat that fucker into a bloody pulp. "What about tomorrow, and the next day?"

She sighs against his shirt, tilts her head back to look up at him. "Luke will just have to leave and take Chris with him. He's always been kind of a pain in my ass; I never thought he'd try something like that though…" She shakes her head, looks lost for a moment.

Then she steps back taking his hand, tugging him after her, leading him down the hallway towards their space.

"Seraphim…"

She glances over her shoulder at his tone. Eyes all innocent and wide.

He doesn't believe it for a second. Especially when she speaks.

"What? You said you couldn't _sleep_…I don't want to sleep…" She turns till she's walking backwards just a step ahead of him; lets go of his hand to slip her shirt over her head mid-step, nearly stopping his next heartbeat.

His stomach summersaults in excitement while his cock twitches at the look she's giving him…at all that bare skin for him to touch. His hands are instantly on her hips despite his reservations, mouth crashing down onto hers a second later. He's pulling her tongue into his mouth, cupping the back of her head, fingers lost in all that loose red gold hair spilling down her back.

He pulls his lips away from hers breathing ragged when she stops, the back of her knees bumping against the mattress.

"Stop… We have to stop or I won't be able to…" His blood is already on fire, body aching and throbbing with every racing beat of his pulse.

"It's okay, what is it?" She's whispering in his ear, breath tickling the side of his neck.

_Fuck, that's not helping. _

His fingers slide down her ribs over soft bare skin making her shiver under his palms.

He draws a shaky breath. Opens his mouth, closes it again cursing dropping his face against her neck, pulling her tight against his chest while his whole body tightens, burns.

"Babe, you just spent the last day thinking all I wanted was sex…we don't have t…."

She cuts him off with her mouth pressed to his, hands slipping back under his shirt shoving it up his chest with a quick jerk to catch under his arms. Then she's staring up at him, wild green eyes making his breath catch in his throat, his heart hammer in his chest completely out of control.

"Take it off. _Now_. You're not done apologizing yet."

_Fuck_.

_Girls going to kill him, and God Damn he can't think of a better way to go._

His hands are shaking when he raises them yanking his shirt up over his head. She's pressed flush against his chest; warm skin pressed flush to her delicious soft skin before his shirts even had time to flutter to the floor.

He pulls her mouth back to his, lets his lips slide over hers; tongue sliding over her bottom lip testing the waters again.

She lets him in instantly; tilts her head; clings to him while he presses her knees back against the bed, hands locked over her hips. Fingertips sliding over the taut perfect skin between her hipbones, sliding lower to her remaining clothes.

She's groaning into their kiss, chest sliding over his. His palms cupping the pale globes of her breasts, feeling her nipple tightening further under his fingertips before he drops his other hand between them, pulls off her belt with quick movements. Fingers sliding down her zipper so his hand can slip between the material and warm skin; cup her core through thin dark lace.

He groans into her mouth feeling the heat radiating off her through the flimsy wet barrier.

"You sure you want this?" He has to know. Needs her to say it, _Now._

She pulls back to study his face, pulling his belt open with an expert flick of her wrist. She grins up at him. A wicked fire-starting glint in her eyes while she's undoing the fastenings against the tensed muscles of his abdomen, and then shoving them down his hips while his breath hisses out and his whole body hums with tension. Every cell in his body, every nerve begging for more; desperate to feel her heat, to lose himself inside her.

"Oh Yes, I want this. " Her hand wraps around him halting all coherent thought.

He can't do anything but breathe with her tight grip sliding over his shaft, thumb circling him; teasing. His fingers clasped around her good shoulder keeping him upright, his other fingers tracing over wet heat; touch feather light over the lace covering her folds. Watching her squirm trying to press closer to him, create more friction against his hand.

He pulls back has to take a second, toe his boots off onto the floor, kick out of his pants. He stares at her for a long moment, loves watching her like this, tousled hair, wide eyes, full lips.

Girl said apologize.

His lips twist with a wicked thought the dark possessive bits of him like very much.

He kneels down at her feet, smirks up at her when her breathing turns unsteady watching him. His fingers closing over the open edges of her belt, peeling the layers of leather and cloth down her legs, down slender pale hips, and over her muscled calves.

Her hands press to his shoulders for a moment as she steps out of them; not that her balance needs help. His eyes lift find hers; she looks more than a little flushed staring down at him, breathing unsteady; she steps back leans into the bed, almost sits down wobbling a bit 'til his hands catch the back of her thighs stopping her…he grins.

Maybe her balance isn't that good right now…he can't help but wonder just how much it will take to make it completely fail…

He nudges her legs apart further with the back of his hands, slides his knuckles down the inside of her knees while her breath catches in her throat. Watches her shiver and bite back a moan, teeth pressed against her bottom lip while she's watching him; still knelt between her bare feet. The backs of his fingers trace around the backsides of her calves, dip into the hollow behind her knees before sliding down the inside of her calves tracing the outline of every muscle.

His hands are shaking, just barely; but then so are her fingers still pressed against his shoulders she hasn't let go yet, with the way her legs are trembling now maybe she can't.

He watches his hands moving over her soft skin; sliding up the edge of her calves; tracing the edge of her knee, following the swell of perfect lean muscle at the edge of her thigh. When his fingers find the intriguing delicate swell of her hip; slip around her to cup her perfect ass she bites her lip again whole body trembling under his touch.

She exhales in a nervous gasp that goes straight through him when his mouth follows, first tracing one side then the other; tongue and lips marking a path up one thigh, and down the other. Her fingers tighten against his shoulders, thumbs pressed against the undersides of his collar bone in an iron grip.

He leans forward to press his mouth over the band of dark lace resting low on her perfect hips, his tongue tracing it's scalloped lace boarder from one hipbone across smooth taut pale skin to the other. Teeth nipping at the swell there making her jump, exhale in surprise while his hands tighten over her lower back holding her captive to his explorations.

She's quivering visibly, trembling and gasping by the time his fingers slip under the lace over her hips; pulling them down her legs and dropping them onto the floor. She groans his name. Fingers twisting in his hair as his mouth slips back over her skin. Working his way down from the edge of her hip, tasting every bit of skin not previously bared to him: writing his name and possessive words against her with his tongue.

"Daryl—Fuck." Her whole body jumps when he presses his mouth to her folds, slips his tongue along her entrance tasting her heat. She's just as perfect as he remembers. Her flavor coats his tongue, sweet and mystifying when his overloaded brain tries to classify it further… it's just _her._

He could spend hours touching her like this, devour her sweet taste every night for the rest of his life and he knows he'd go to his death bed wanting more; it will never be enough. Especially when lapping at her makes her gasp like that twitching and shuddering. And pulling her clit into his mouth to flick the tip of his tongue over its ridge makes her shudder and buck and growl his name between such dirty curses he has to grin against her, knowing such dirty language came from that gorgeous smart mouth; because of him, and his touch.

Touching her like this and _watching_ her react; _feeling_ it, _hearing_ it… makes him feel like a God.

He presses her legs farther apart with his hands, tilts her towards his eager mouth cupping the back of her thighs while she shudders and bucks against his tongue. All thoughts of gentleness gone, he presses against her dragging his tongue across her, writing his name against her most sensitive nerves, pulling the same flesh between his lips and pressing his teeth over her just hard enough that her hips buck forward and she's cuming hard in mere moments.

He doesn't pull back even with her fingers painfully tight against his hair while she keens and curses; rolling towards his touch. His tongue is already gathering more of the delicious heat spilling from her release, spreading it against her folds with his fingertips growling in approval against her thigh at the way she shakes and clings to him gasping his name as she comes back down.

Her knees shake, hands press into his shoulders again as she moans his name at his renewed touch, rolling her hips towards his mouth. Her head snaps back and a groan slips out when his finger parts her; slips through her heat, spreading her tight inner walls to slide through her silky molten heat making her curse, press against his hand begging him to touch her.

_God he likes that_.

He can't resist pulling his hand from her skin, waiting 'til her chin dips back down; eyes locking on his still fever bright with a fuzzy post orgasm haze.

She's opening her mouth to speak, maybe to ask him why he stopped when he slides his tongue along his finger, gathering her flavor into his mouth. His cheeks hollow for a second around his finger pulling every last bit of her arousal from his skin. Watching her react as he does before pulling the single digit from his mouth while her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush brighter pink. Her mouth parts with her next unsteady breath when he pulls his finger from his mouth after one more slow slide of his tongue; her whole body trembles again when his hand raises to slide his wet fingertip over her folds once more.

Damn Girl is always teasing him; and now he knows why. It's a God Damn rush doing this to her. He's higher than he's ever been in his whole fucking life; and he never has to come back down.

Her whole body shudders when he presses inside her in a slow almost lazy exploration of her heat, first with just the one finger, then a second while she gasps and damn near purrs his name, the sound goes straight to his dick.

He curls his fingertips against her inner muscles after a few slow thrusts, making her whole body react. Her fingers tighten over his skin, pelvis jerking forward head tipping back.

"Fuck, Daryl…oh God."

God yes, that's an intoxicating rush; making her jerk like that, moan like that.

He needs a better angle. Needs to make it happen again.

She squeaks in surprise when his palms press against her thighs shoving her backwards onto the bed without warning. She lands with a startled bounce, arms out palms flat against the sheets.

Then she's promptly twisting them beneath her when he crawls up onto the bed, grabs her calves yanking her towards the edge, draping her knees over his shoulders while he's kneeled on the floor and pressing his mouth over her clit, fingers parting her heat while she bucks and claws at the bed, back arching with a second breath-stealing release.

He doesn't wait for her to come down, hands keeping her hips pinned to the bed while his tongue keeps circling her clit as she shakes, and his fingers pump against her clenching heat.

She bucks off the bed completely head tilted back neck arched exposing the pale column of her throat, her perfect breast thrust towards the ceiling. He needs to taste those too his body reminds him with another rush of desire, cock painfully hard throbbing against the air.

He slides up her, mouth pressed against her hip, up her flat stomach to the curve of her ribs. He nips her there gently feels her gasp and clench around his fingers still buried inside her slick folds.

He closes his mouth over her breast, draws one of her perfect pink nipples into his mouth feeling her writhe and buck into his hand. He withdraws his slick fingers, slides them up to circle her clit while she curses into the darkness, hands tangled in his hair, nails sliding down his spine.

"Daryl….please…"

The firestorm in his groin tightens; clenches and he has to draw back gasp in a harsh breath against her skin trying to collect himself. _Fuck._ He's not going to last long if she can make his dick throb like that without even touching him. It's been too damn long since he touched her as it is.

Her hands are drawing him up, trying to pulling his lips back to hers.

She melts against him when they meet. Wraps herself around his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades while she shudders under his touch. Heels pressing into the mattress tilting her heat up to slip against his throbbing tip. His whole body leaps in response, breath catching, chest seizing.

He has to pull back, hide his face against her neck for a moment breathing slowly. Fighting for every ounce of control left to him.

"Babe, please…" Her hands wrap around him, sliding over his length. His teeth clench on a groan.

_Fuck. She's never called him Babe before and it's so not helping. _

Her hands pump down his length again and _she_ whimpers, and _Fuck. _

He's snatching her hands up pulling them from his heated skin while she gasps. Pressing her wrists down to the mattress breathing harsh and clipped.

His heart racing in his chest, pounding in his ears. He's pressing his lips to her ear, growls the words against her hair feeling her tremble against his whole frame; her heartbeat hammering against his chest.

"Don't beg me like that Seraphim, I'm about two seconds away from pinning you down and taking you."

He doesn't have the control left for her to whimper like that, curl against his chest arching into him…tilting her hips and…

_She's doing it anyway_.

Despite his warning, maybe because of it.

Damn Crazy Girl wants to play with fire.

Drive him out of his fucking mind.

She's fucking saying _please_ in that breathy voice that cuts through him like a hot knife shredding his grip on the monster under his skin. The one that purrs whenever she's near, and growls when she's standing next to another male and whispers in his ear that he should take her, make her his, nearly every minute of the day. It makes him itch to pin her to the bed, drive himself deep, make her shudder and cum scream his name…

His whole body jerks down against hers, hands tightening over her wrists, and God he shouldn't be pinning her down like this…shouldn't do it… this is almost exactly how Eli and Kyle had her pinned. _Fuck_.

His whole body stills. He doesn't want to scare the shit out of her… but she's not fighting him…

_God._ She's killing him instead, shredding his control: because she's not screaming at him to get off of her, or pushing him away.

Fuck no; she's trembling and arching her back. Wrapping her leg over his hips, her voice the perfect reassuring caress against his frayed nerves in the dark. Gasping his name and arching to rub her heat against his throbbing head.

She drops her chin stares up at him when he hesitates still shaking with the effort to stop.

"Daryl, look at me."

He does, and then he can't look away from those startling bright green eyes staring up at him. His fingers slip from her wrists, letting her go; but she catches his hands, interlocks their fingers raising both their arms back over her head.

Pinning _herself_ under him with their locked hands.

And _Fuck_ that shouldn't turn him on; shouldn't make him growl low in his chest and slide his head through her folds, teasing them both.

"Please…"

She tilts her hips up to his, parting her knees farther gasping when he tilts his hips forward; pressed to her folds. She tilts her head back with a sharp raspy hiss that barely catches his ears.

Lights a fire up his spine when it does.

"yeeess…"

He rolls his hips instinctively thrusting into her perfect searing heat in one perfect deep thrust. Nearly loses the strength in his arms to hold himself over her at the achingly tight silken pressure enclosing his cock. At the way she jerks, back arching completely off the bed cursing and praising him in the same breath. Every sensation pulling fire from the base up his spine, racing over his back tingling at the base of his skull while his head spins.

He's close already; just from touching her, tasting her. Her hands tighten against his, and her hips jerk off the bed, driving him deeper.

His mind slinters, control tumbles away lost to the molten heat wrapped around him tighter and tighter with each pumping thrust.

He still can't stop watching her; her back arching under him, fingers laced with his against the sheets. All that gorgeous hair fanned out in a halo or fire around her head while she thrashes biting her lip. The muscles in her arms stand out as she arches; shoulders lifting from the bed on a ragged exhale, and her body clenches mind-staggeringly tight around his aching cock.

Sweat beads across the small of his back, muscles tensing and bunching with each sharp thrust of his hips. She's brought one leg up over his back, drags him down against her tighter, impossibly deeper she scoots beneath him somehow; tilts her hips changing his angle and _Jesus Christ…_his thrust turn harsher, more ragged.

He's got to be in the back of her throat he's so deep.

He should stop…slow down at least; but she's gasping his name, bucking up into his thrust begging him for more…telling him with a groan to take her _harder_ and _faster, to cum for her and_—

_And Fuck._

His head snaps back, fire pours down his spine burning his nerves before racing back up through his belly in a prefect spasming wash of liquid heat and sweet pleasure that blinds him to anything else. His last jagged thrusts drag her back over the edge, muscles seizing around him pulling a wordless cry from deep in his chest while he spills inside her.

He stares down at her trembling and quaking beneath him, shuddering against his chest with ragged breaths, legs drawn tight and shaking around his hips keeping him buried in her velvet heat.

"Fuck." He has to let her hands go so he can drop to his elbows, trying to keep his weight off her chest. Drops is head to her neck while her arms wrap around his back, dragging him down anyway.

She hums against his ear, obviously floating on a fuzzy post-bliss high.

She feels glorious, wrapped around him, fingers drifting up his spine. Her muscles still fluttering and twitching around him drawing another groan from his throat.

"Maybe—" he has to pause to kiss just below her ear, "we should fight more often."

She slaps his shoulder. "Shudup," wraps her arms back around his neck kissing him.

This time it's slow, gentle and sweet and makes his chest tight and his next inhale hurt.

"I meant it," She's staring at him again while he speaks; leaning into his warm palm cupping her cheek. "Before—All of it. _Stay with me_."

Her eyes slip shut and she nods. Pulls him back down for another slow kiss that drags on longer then the first, ends with her nibbling his lower lip; pulling another zing of heat from low in his groin. _Jesus._

Girl really is going to kill him.

"I promise."

He stops kissing her sliding off her when she shifts again; too afraid he's crushing her.

She twists pressing her back against his chest so his arms can wrap around her; just like every other night. No matter how they start out, they always wake like this…

Just like the very first night in the woods alone with her; when he dreamt of touching her; kissing her and woke so rock hard he nearly embarrassed himself, had to jerk away from her before she noticed blushing furiously the whole time. Cursing himself for ever thinking of her that way…

"Do you want me to stay awake?" She sounds so tired already, actually yawns halfway through the sentence.

"No, you get some sleep. I'll stay awake."

She snorts softly. "Daryl, you'll be asleep in five minutes."

"Maybe not." He could stay awake if he wanted to…if having all her loose hair so close to his nose didn't fill his lungs with her soft scent on each inhale. And she wasn't so warm pressed against his bare chest; fingers encircling his forearm holding him closer to her skin.

"It's…okay—" she yawns. "I'll be here in the morning."

He should stay awake; just in case Chris is a bigger idiot then he's already shown. And his crossbow is upstairs on the damn table next to his pack…

Her soft breathing lulls him to sleep in minutes.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


End file.
